Mommy Dearest
by HigherMagic
Summary: I can’t believe that she can bear to do this to me, every single day. No relief comes, but I can’t bring myself to end it. I need help.' AU. All Human. Full Summary Inside. M for language, abuse and eventually lemons. Criticism welcome.
1. Chapter 1

**Mommy Dearest**

**aka**

**Behind Closed Doors**

**Summary: **I can't believe that she can bear to do this to me, every single day. No relief comes, but I can't bring myself to end it. I need help.

**Elaboration: **Edward and Alice are brother and sister. Edward is the child that everyone loves to hate, and his sister is the only one that he will let himself trust. Bella and Emmett Swan, and Jasper and Rosalie Hale are the only friends he has, and the only reason he keeps on living. Classic abuse story and not much fluff. All human. Major Our Of Character Moments.

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

Why can't I bring myself to end my suffering? That question, at least, is easy to answer; it is simply not in my nature. I don't like taking the easy way out, I never have. I think that we are all struggling for a reason. Why should I complain that my struggles seem to be worse than others? I am happy for those more fortunate than I, and I pray that their good lives continue.

Still, I can't help but wish things were different, even slightly.

Let me explain. I am sure that throwing you into the middle of a half-completed story is sure to bring about some confusion. The only reason I am writing this, in fact, is because my therapist and friends insist I do. Personally, I would rather not have strangers invade my personal life and experiences, especially ones as painful as those that I am about to relate, but what must be done must be done, and, like I've mentioned before, who am I to complain?

My name is Edward Cullen. I have an older sister, Alice. She is my elder by two years, making her nineteen. She has a tumor in her pituitary gland, making her stand at a small four feet eleven. Her skin is pale as mine and her hair is black and spiky, sticking out every which way. Thankfully, it has already begun to grow back from her chemo treatments. Her eyes are golden, like my mother's. Mother, of course, is used as loosely as possible. She does not share my genetics, and for that I am truly thankful. I couldn't imagine someone doing this to her own child.

I imagine I am confusing you more. Forgive me; my mind is not what it once was. I shall attempt to continue explain the more important people in my life, and finish with the most hated.

My father is one of the best surgeons in the world. His name is Carlisle Cullen, and he has blonde hair and dark green eyes. He's tall, like me – I inherited that from him. He has an easygoing and friendly nature, but is completely oblivious to the torment I suffer every night while he's at work. Alice continually wants to tell him, but I beg her not to enlighten anyone. It only makes things worse to tell.

My friends have always been there for me, even though they don't understand. Emmett and Bella Swan are the first people aside from my family that I had been introduced to, as Bella and Alice shared several classes together. They both have dark brown hair and brown eyes. Emmett has the build of a football player, while Bella is thin and lightweight. They both like to have fun, and I can't help but be lighthearted around Emmett's bear-like playfulness and Bella's wit. Their parents split up a little after Bella's birth, and they live with their father, Police Chief Swan. I am always wary around them, afraid that they might see the scars and bruises, and tell the police. Next come the twins, Jasper and Rosalie. Both are blonde, with Rosalie possessing blue eyes in contrast with Jasper's brown. They are both tall and Rosalie has the body of a swimsuit model, while Jasper, though not overly muscled like Emmett, is bigger than I am, and carries himself almost like a soldier. He's a calming influence on me; I can't find myself to get upset around him. Rosalie thinks that I'm a freak, and reasonably so. Let me list a few reasons why.

First and foremost, I won't let anyone aside from my sister touch me. Even if it's a hug or a friendly handshake, I simply cannot bring myself to do it. It keeps reminding me of her. Every kiss and caress that she forces me into comes flooding back with the contact of another. Alice is the only one that can calm me down. I love her for it. She always has time to help me, despite her own problems. Thankfully, though, her cancer is in remission, so she might be back to her former playful self before long. She and Jasper are engaged, I forgot to mention, and Emmett and Rosalie are dating. Bella and I are the singles of the group. Emmett had once jokingly suggested we pair up, but I couldn't help be paralyzed with fear at the suggestion. At Alice's urging, he let it drop. I had felt bad about that, but I couldn't help the undeniable fear I felt. Every time women came close – and they did so often, because apparently I am desirable among them – I would all but run away. It's terrifying, and I scold you if you laugh at this.

Now back to the reasons I am considered a 'freak'. I only get one and a half meals a day, so I am very thin and sick because of it. People think that I am anorexic and bulimic, but I beg you not to believe them; my illness has good cause. I don't eat breakfast, because as soon as I wake up, my mother comes to my room to give me a beating. She will continue so that I have just enough time to shower and change for school. At school, I get enough food to perhaps feed a horse, but I can't take it all, because my stomach is unused to the amount and rejects most of it, so I spend the second half of lunch hour bent over a toilet retching. At dinner, mother only gives me enough food to stay alive, and have energy to the more frenzied beating and abuse later in the day. Then, she makes me play 'her song' on my piano. The keys are no longer white, but red from the blood that slips from my cut wrists. Before you ask, I do not cut myself, but rather the restraints she holds me in become too tight when I try and escape, and cut into my flesh. Alice joins me in the music sessions, and after we finish, my mother will come over and give us a kiss on the forehead, acting like the model parent. It's at times like this that I hate her most; how dare she act like she loves me! So now you understand, I am apparently bulimic, anorexic, autistic, paranoid, schizophrenic and antisocial, need I continue?

Now that you have a somewhat better understanding of my situation, let me enlighten you as to the true nature of my 'mother'. Again the sarcasm strikes. She is in no way my mother. I came about when my father cheated with Elizabeth Masen, a nurse at the hospital. She died when giving birth to me, so Carlisle took me in. Esme reluctantly forgave him and cared for me as her own. That is, until I was about nine. Then the first beatings started. It was around when my sister was diagnosed with bronchitis, so I think she blames me. How am I to tell her it's because of her second-hand smoke? She will simply beat me again. My sister, being the kind soul that she is, does not blame me, and is with me every night to this day nursing my wounds and treating my injuries. She is all I could want in a sister.

If only my mother stayed to mental abuse. That I could take, perhaps even a bit of physical. But…some of the things that I am forced to do make my lunchtime retching that much easier. Of course, the cunning bitch doesn't strike my face, or anywhere that would make my marks obvious and raise suspicion, and her worse beatings are at night, where I have enough time for the pain to dull to a throbbing before the sun rises. I hate the sun, it just heralds a new day of my heart struggling to beat, my breath rasping in my chest as I try and get enough air in my lungs to continue the day, and two more bouts with my mother. How I hate Esme.

Then why don't I end it, you ask. Why don't I leave? This is a question I cannot truly answer, for there are many reasons, but none of them seem to be enough. They all add together though, so that I can find enough resolve to stay.

One of them is that my sister needs me. We need each other just as much as the other. It's a steady relationship, and I am closer to my sister than anyone else, naturally. The second is, like I said before, I do not take the easy way out. I don't back down from fights and I don't run away like a coward. At least, that's what I like to tell myself. Thirdly – and most practically – is where would I live? I couldn't live at my friends' houses without raising suspicion, and that would be the first place that my parents would look. How I wish my mother hadn't died, perhaps things would be different. Hard, but different.

So here I am. Hair the bronze of my mother's, and eyes the green of my father's, but with the vibrancy of Elizabeth's. I maintain a steadily unhealthy hundred pounds of body weight. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but that is always my medium. And this is a story I do not wish to tell you, but I shall anyway. Because with the wonderful people at my side, I feel like it's possible to open up, to share, and to trust. I hope that you do not prove me wrong.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

"Edward!" I heard footsteps coming heavily up the stairs and rolled onto my back, bracing myself for the all-too-familiar figure to come through the door. I winced as the movement, gentle though it was, sent shots of pain down my spine and scars, and I bit my lip to stop myself crying out in agony. I heard her footsteps come closer, and the door flew open to reveal the object of all my worst nightmares. She smiled maliciously at the sight of me and sauntered forward, sitting down at the corner of my bed. She pulled her caramel hair back from her neck, pulling it up into a band. I kept my eyes focused straight ahead. She beat me if I looked down, and she beat me if I looked right at her. I couldn't understand why she even bothered with me; surely it would be less effort to simply ignore me than take the time and energy to beat and abuse me every single day, but she seemed to get some cheap thrill out of it, and even more since I was so submissive to her. I couldn't really help it; it was simply my nature. I didn't want to receive any more pain than necessary, but I wasn't going to fight her off to prevent it either. I'm a sick, sick masochist.

I felt a stinging slap on my cheek and fought the urge to cry out in surprise and pain. I chance a quick look at her and her cheeks were flushed with anger, her breathing already heavy.

"You will look at me when I'm talking to you!" she screeched.

"Yes mother," I replied quietly, looking slightly to her right so I didn't have to meet her angry golden eyes. She seemed satisfied with my response and calmed down. She reached her hand up and ran a finger heavily down my arm where numerous half-healed marks from ropes and sharp objects could be seen against my pale skin.

"How are you feeling?"

How was I feeling? Stupid two-faced bitch. How dare she act like she cared about me! Just get my beating over and done with. I was almost tempted to say it to her, but stopped myself at the last moment; insulting her and provoking her would do no good.

"Better," was all I said. I hoped she could find no incentive to hurt me this morning. The times were few and far between when she would simply let me be for the morning, though the sessions were twice as hard in the evenings and often involved…but I won't go there now; you'll see soon enough.

She nodded and smiled, kissing me on the forehead. I wanted to shy away from her touch so badly, but one wrong move and I would be in agony the rest of the day. She got up from my bed and left the room, calling Alice to wake up. I stared after her for a few seconds, waiting with hopeful wariness in case she returned, then rolled out of my bed, quickly pulling on the classic outfit I always wore – jeans, hoodie, t-shirt. Plain, simple, and covered everything without drawing attention to myself. Sometimes I had to wear gloves as well, but those days it was always cold, so it was in the norm. I swear the stupid little…I swear Esme planned the days when she could inflict more pain in more places. Cunning little bitch. I hissed as the coarse fabric slid over my scars, ripping the scabs off of a few smaller ones. I shook it off; this pain was fine, I could bear it easily. It was nothing compared to some of the things she'd done to me.

Alice came into my room a few minutes later, knocking twice softly on the door before coming in, sitting in the middle of my unmade bed and watching with wide knowing eyes as I stiffly made my way around my room, cleaning the miniscule pieces of dust and dirt out of the way so that mother wouldn't have to. Again, this was another reason she'd hit me, if my room weren't clean. I swear she comes in and makes my room filthy just so that she can have an excuse; I guess being a stay at home wife does have its advantages for torturing your bastard son.

Finally I turned for my bed, finding my pixie-like sister there. I flashed her one of her crooked smiles and she returned it half-heartedly. She got up from my bed so I could make it, smoothing every crease and corner with precise movements. One thing was for sure; when and if I ever got out of this hellhole, I would definitely be a neat freak. She stood, waiting patiently for me to finish. When I straightened up she flashed me another smile, this one wider, reaching her eyes. I kissed her on the top of her head, hugging her small frame to mine.

"Did you sleep well?" I asked gently. I felt her nodding as her hands slowly encircled my waste with a gentle touch in case any more scars and wounds had made their way there, and were sensitive. I smiled at her care. "You'll find no new wounds, Alice." She pulled away a little, sadness in her eyes. I understood. My parents doted on her, while Carlisle ignored me, and Esme…well, you can guess what Esme does by now. She felt guilty, but I couldn't hold anything against her. As soon as I was old enough we would move out, and I could get a job and support us both until her cancer was fully rid of. The doctors had said that there was a surgery available for her, and she was still deciding on whether to have it or not. I could guess why she stalled; she didn't want to leave me alone here. That only made me feel guilty – I loved my sister and wanted what was best for her, even at the price of my own happiness. With the cancer gone, she would be able to marry and live with Jasper, and they would be able to have a family of their own, but I knew she never would leave me, not until I could make it on my own.

"She didn't hurt you this morning?" I shook my head and she breathed a sigh of relief, taking my hand and pulling me downstairs. "Alright, then let's go, we don't want to be late." I agreed wholeheartedly; you haven't gotten the trend of 'any excuse' by now?

We arrived with time to spare, as always, and met the other four outside the first building to our classes. Alice hugged everyone while they all exchanged nods with me while I hung back, keeping my comfort zone. Bella smiled, her brown eyes warm as always and I smiled a little as well, in a slightly better mood than usual. The bell rang, and we split into the three groups making our way to each class. I had my classes with at least one of them every period, and I was incredibly grateful for that. In fact, Alice had used her little dazzling abilities to organize it so, as it hadn't started off like this. I think you can now understand how much I love my sister, and why; she won't stop at anything for my happiness and well being.

I had English with Emmett first. We sat next to each other at the back as always. We exchanged casual banter and small talk as always. Girls ogled both of us as always. It was a very routine day, and time flew towards lunch. I bought too much food as always, having ignored the rare opportunity to get breakfast. Rosalie kept shooting me glares across the table. She muttered something to Bella, who kicked her under the table. Alice sat next to me, creating a barrier between Bella and I, and Jasper sat across from her, with Emmett across from me. Jasper and Emmett kept talking about some movie that was coming out tonight that they were going to see, and were currently trying to talk the rest of us into joining.

"Come on, Bella, you'd like it."

"I don't like anything you like, Emmett."

"That's not true! It has stuff for both of us! For me, we have blood and guts and action and gore! And for you, we have a love story." His nose wrinkled and I fought the urge to smile. I would have laughed, but my laugh died years ago.

"Well…" She was folding. We could all see it.

"Please, Bella?"

"Oh alright, damn it!" She threw her hands up in the air and sat back, arms crossed, lips jutting out in a playful pout. Emmett roared with laughter at her expression and I shied back from my food, startled by the loud noise. I felt Alice's hand, comforting on my forearm, and relaxed, much like a skittish colt.

"How about you, Rose? You in?"

"Sure."

He seemed disappointed with the lack of resistance, but quickly set his target for Alice and I. "How about you guys?"

"What time does it start?" asked Alice diplomatically.

"Five fifteen."

"I can't go," I said automatically. Alice nodded.

"Yeah, we can't go. We have to be home by seven every night."

"You guys get a curfew that early?"

"Something like that." I couldn't help but hold back the bitter snort that followed my statement. It was times like these that my normally oblivious friends knew something was wrong with me. I told you my laughter died years ago. That's not exactly true. My real, honest laughter died years ago. All that's left is a bitter shadow of its former glory. I looked up from where I had been picking at my forgotten plate to find five pairs of eyes looking at me with different levels of concern, the most coming from Bella. She had inkling, I think, of what happens at my home, but she never said anything. She was the first to respect my distance and boundaries. I think she understood that I would talk about it of my own free will.

"Can't you break it?" Emmett was whining now. I clenched my fist, ignoring the streaks of agony that shot up my wrists and arms. I glared at him.

"No."

He stared at me for a while, startled at my vehemence. Jasper put a hand on his shoulder, once more inserting his calming aura into the building tension. "Let it go, Emmett. They can't join us. Maybe next time."

"Maybe next time," Alice repeated, smiling in gratitude at Jasper. I think he knew a little also, or at least knew that something was wrong. It must be hard to keep something like this from her fiancée, but I managed, and I hoped that Alice did also.

I felt a low clenching in my stomach and groaned. Alice rubbed my back a little, all five of them recognizing my impending 'purge', I suppose you could call it. Might as well go along with the bulimic story, right? That is what I'd learned about people; if you let them come up with their own stories, then they will leave you alone. At first I had denied that anything was wrong, so of course that made people more suspicious. I had given up eventually and admitted my 'problems'. I was supposedly seeing a therapist about them. Yeah, right. Note that sarcasm is used again.

I got up, running suddenly to the bathroom to keep my stomach contents in before I reached the toilet. Throwing open a stall, I emptied my stomach into the toilet bowl. It was a full seven minutes before I could control my retching and continue to breath normally. I felt Jasper behind me and turned around, wiping my mouth on my sleeve. Yeah, I know, gross, but he simply stared at me solemnly, letting me finish in peace. I had to retch once more before I was finally finished, the smell having set me off once more. I flushed it and rushed to the sink to clean myself off, vigorously washing my hands and face. When I was finished I was drying my hands off on a paper towel, wincing as it rubbed my wrists, when Jasper caught me mid-motion. His fingers closed in a vice-like grip around my forearm, making me cry out in pain and fall to my knees. I bit my lip to keep the tears in, and I think I drew blood. I looked up to find him examining my wrists, where there were distinct purple and red bruises and embedded metal digging into them, making the flesh swell around the metal in them. His expression was a mixture between rage, disgust and shock.

"What the hell is this?" he yelled, shaking my arm towards me. I had tried to get up during his staring period, but fell to my knees once more as his fingers rubbed along the wounds that were now oozing blood and pus, opened by his rough handling.

"Edward Cullen, what the hell is this?"

"Jasper, please, I can explain -."

"Edward, did you do this to yourself?"

"Damn it let go! You're hurting him!" Alice had come in through the door, obviously hearing our yells. Jasper immediately released my arm and I cradled it to my body, hastily pulling my sleeve over it, hiding it from view. My sleeve was quickly soaking with the various fluids coming from the wound and I bit my lip once more, trying to ignore the pain. I felt Alice's tiny hand on my shoulder and got to my feet. I daren't meet Jasper's gaze, but could feel his eyes livid on me. Alice led me out of the building and slid my sleeve up to take a closer look.

"Holy hell, Edward, when did she do this?"

"She put them on a few weeks ago, and has been tightening them every few days. She's due to tighten them tonight, actually. Alice! He knows, Jasper knows! She's going to kill me. You have to make him swear he won't tell. Please, Alice! She'll kill me. You know she will." The tears that I had fought against spilled over now, and I looked down. I hated showing weakness, even in front of the one person I felt that I could trust.

She tried cleaning the wound a little, and then gave up. "I will Edward, it's alright." She stroked her clean hand through my hair and I relaxed under her careful, gentle touch. My head was possibly the only untouched – well, unhurt I should say – place on me, and I loved it when she played with my hair. I felt loved, then. "I'll make sure he doesn't tell. How is your wrist?" The pain had numbed a little, and I told her so. "Will you be able to make it through class?"

"What choice do I have?"

"Right. I'll see you after school then?"

"Until then, Alice.

"Until then."

We parted. I ignored Jasper's continued staring at me. I could guess what he was thinking, but I hoped that he didn't think that I had inflicted those wounds upon myself. That would be horrendous. I will not take credit for what this creature does to me each and every night. I just hoped that Alice would convince him to stay silent.

For all our sakes.

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**Author's Note: **I thought I'd give this storyline a shot. Let me know what you think and be nice! I'm not used to writing this sort of thing, so please let me know how I did and don't sugar coat it. Updates will probably be few and far between, because I want to finish my other fanfictions first.  
I didn't beta this well. If you don't know me well, or if this is my first fanfiction that you've read, let me just say that I've been feeling like crap, and I haven't read Breaking Dawn, not that it matters with this fanfic anyway, being AU and everything. Love you all and keep reading!

HigherMagic x


	2. Chapter 2

**Mommy Dearest**

**aka**

**Behind Closed Doors**

**Summary: **I can't believe that she can bear to do this to me, every single day. No relief comes, but I can't bring myself to end it. I need help.

**Elaboration: **Edward and Alice are brother and sister. Edward is the child that everyone loves to hate, and his sister is the only one that he will let himself trust. Bella and Emmett Swan, and Jasper and Rosalie Hale are the only friends he has, and the only reason he keeps on living. Classic abuse story and not much fluff. All human. Major Out Of Character Moments.

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**Chapter Two**

* * *

The Recessive Gene. What an excuse. Really, though, it was due to the 'recessive gene' that Alice had black hair, and mine was bronze, when our parents possessed the color of blonde and caramel. Suspicions were raised, really, as to how I ended up being cared for by Carlisle when Elizabeth Masen died giving birth to a son not days before. When hearing these rumors – the small talk of a boring little town – Esme came flying back home in a fury. Insinuations, however true, against the family made her wrath horrible, and of course she took it out on her only outlet; me.

I had to wonder about my parents' relationship. I mean, Esme was clearly being unsatisfied, so she turned to me, and she was always going out when Carlisle was working, coming home smelling like sex, smoke and alcohol. The scents made me gag usually, which of course angered her more. I could never win, really. And why did my father continually ignore my obvious problems? The school had called multiple times at first when some kid had caught me retching in the bathrooms – Mike, I think his name was. Carlisle didn't mention one word. He didn't even look at me or ask me about anything. It was infuriating; had mother broken and silenced him so easily? Did she abuse him too? It was improbable - I couldn't imagine anyone like Carlisle standing for that – but perhaps she was threatening something of his to keep him quiet? My life is like a soap opera.

Alice and I arrived home from school at six fifty. I could hear Esme in the kitchen, humming as she cooked. My stomach rumbled a little and I hurriedly made my way upstairs while Alice went into the kitchen to greet her. I was faintly repulsed by the idea of Alice acting so friendly around my tormentor, but I understood the need to keep up appearances; so far Esme thought that no one knew about what happened behind closed doors.

I had asked Alice immediately after school – she and Jasper shared period before last – if he had been sworn to secrecy. Though she hadn't exactly answered my question, she had assured me that no one would tell anyone else. The 'else' is what frightened me; how many more people knew? Jasper would probably tell Rosalie, Emmett and Bella straight away. For some reason, the idea of Rosalie and Emmett knowing was not nearly as disturbing to me as having Bella know. She was so fragile and innocent; I didn't want her knowing what I suffered through every day. She was happy, and she deserved to be happy, and I wanted her to stay happy. My problems were not for her concerns.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

"Kids! Dinner's ready! Come eat!"

I made my way downstairs, meeting Alice on the second landing, and went down to help set the table, putting all of the plates and silverware in the same perfect position each time, being slightly obsessive about it. I hoped that Esme's mood had continued to tonight, but I doubted it, so I wanted to make sure I did everything right.

She walked into the room flaunting a huge bowl of pasta. Figures. Carbs. Lots and lots of carbs. I was going to get it tonight. Despair washed over me as I watched Esme heap out the offensive food, giving all three of them hearty amounts and giving me perhaps half as much. I didn't complain. I doubted I would be able to stomach the food now. I twirled the long strands idly around my fork before shoving it into my mouth. It tasted good, but my throat and tongue felt numb. I forced myself to swallow and take another bite as conversations started around me. I didn't pay attention to any of them. I was focused on keeping my food down.

Mercifully, or perhaps not, dinner was over quickly. I helped mother to clear the table and I washed the dishes as they all went their separate ways in the house: Carlisle went to his study to pour over some patient's medical history; Alice went to her room to do her homework; Esme probably went upstairs to her room to do whatever she did in her spare time. Or maybe she was in my room, searching for an excuse to hurt me more tonight.

It turns out that both of my assumptions were wrong, for she came down about twenty minutes later dressed in a tight salmon pink dress that flared around her legs and tall black heels that, quite personally, I think people would have to be insane to wear. My point is proven. She grabbed her black purse by the phone and called upstairs that she would be out for the night, and to not wait up for her. Today was my lucky day, apparently. How wrong I was. She sauntered into the kitchen – again, possible in those heels? I think not – and came around the back of me. I shuddered at her touch as her hands trailed down my chest, wrapped around from the back. I could feel her breath on my neck and I clenched my fists around the towel I currently held whilst drying plates.

"I'm coming home around eleven, Edward. You better be up and ready for me." She didn't give me time to react. I wasn't sure I would be able to anyway, frozen as I was. Dear God, what would she do to me tonight? I had some idea. She would probably come home, drunk off her ass, and then force me to go down on her. I shuddered again at the thought and almost made myself retch again. I finished the last dishes quickly and ran up to my room; desperately wishing right then that Carlisle hadn't taken the bolt off of the door. It had been at mother's wishes, of course. She 'didn't want me sneaking around with some girl at night'. Ha! I pulled my hoodie off, and my socks, tossing them into one corner of the room designated for such things. Cringing, I inspected the embedded metal in my wrists. My circulation was probably permanently damaged. Any time I tried to write or use my fingers, the metal rubbed along my tendons and caused me pain. I would probably lose the use of my hands if this continued much longer.

My eyes traveled up my forearms, examining every welt and scar closely. I looked like some screwed up war veteran or something.

The floorboards outside my room creaked and my head shot up. I relaxed almost immediately as I saw the flash of spiky black hair that heralded my sister's arrival. She came over and sat down on the edge of my bed. I joined her. Her sad eyes followed the trail my own had been following moments before. I sighed, running my fingers through my hair again and most likely leaving bits of wound in my bronze locks. She placed her hands on my shoulder, rubbing gently and I sighed again, a slight smile coming to my lips.

"She left tonight," Alice whispered, afraid to break the silence. I nodded.

"She's coming back at eleven. She told me to be ready."

Alice nodded. Her eyes met mine, and this time they were pleading. "Edward, please, just turn her in. It would be so easy. One phone call. Or if you can't do that, tell Bella, or let Jasper tell Bella, or let me tell Jasper to tell Bella. Or write a note. Edward, there are so many ways you can simply end this, why don't you?"

"Because I can't! She's my mother!"

"No she's not! That…thing is not your mother. Your mother is not Esme Cullen. Your mother is Elizabeth Masen who died almost eighteen years ago giving birth to you! You have no loyalty to that…to Esme."

"But I can't do it, Alice. Every time I think about it, I get giddy, my hands shake, and I become lightheaded. You don't think that I contemplate turning her in every second of every day? I do! Don't think that I don't…but then what happens? I will probably go to doctors. Therapists," I spat the word out; I hate those people – they always try and get inside your head. "It'll be all over the news. Pitied looks, shame on the family, on you, on Carlisle. You and he would probably get arrested for not telling. And then," I paused for breath. "And then…Esme will get out of prison, and she'll come back for me. I know she will. She wants to kill me Alice; I can see it in her eyes. How do you think I should proceed?" By the end of my little speech my voice had become bitter and resigned. "I can't turn her in any more than I could kill you."

"Then…turn in the video."

"It would accomplish the same thing."

Once, when I was…fifteen? Around then. I had placed a camera in my room, to video tape what Esme had done to my every night since I was nine. To my knowledge, she didn't know about it, and I wanted to keep it that way.

"Just…let me deal with this, Alice."

"No!" She stood up, glaring down at me. The sudden motion and her unexpected resemblance to Esme made me shrink back in fear. "You think that this is easy for me, Edward? To sit by and watch that bitch come into your room every night and every morning and do God knows what to you? The only evidence I get is your scars and wounds, and my imagination fills all the rest. As well as your voices…you think that I can't hear you? Or _her_? I can hear you pleading for her to stop, and I can hear her, angry, unstoppable. She _will_ kill you Edward, of this I have no doubt, and yet you still defend her. Shall I put that on your epitaph? Think of me, here! Think of your friends, of Bella!" I winced. That was a low blow. "She knows that there's something wrong with you. You hide it well, but now she knows. Jasper told her. She has been sworn to secrecy too, but she shouldn't have to be! You know what I think? I think you _like _what Esme does to you!"

I growled, getting to my feet and towering over my sister. My hands were clenched at my sides, and I spoke through gritted teeth.

"I can't believe my own sister would think that. Alice, you know me. I am your brother. You claim to hear us every night…you _know _exactly what she does to me. How can you say I enjoy it? I'm not twisted or screwed up like that."

"Then turn her in."

"Damn it I can't!"

"Then let me."

I opened my mouth for a retort, and then closed it again. I sat down, my head in my hands. This was all getting to my head. I was going insane, I was sure of it. Would it really be bad to just let Alice call the police? What harm could really come of it? I could do without therapists, but I couldn't deny that I did need medical attention. If I claimed that Alice and Carlisle had been ignorant…that Alice had only just seen the scars and called the police then…it should work, right? Why was I fighting this? This woman wasn't even my real mother.

Bella knew, so did Jasper. It was only a matter of time before Rosalie and Emmett let it slip. If Esme was gone, incarcerated…I could have a relatively normal life…Alice would be free to go and have a life with Jasper…I could go to college without fear of what lay in wait for me at home.

I wasn't sure how long I thought about it, but a quick glance at the clock told that it was ten fifty-seven. I hissed and looked up to my sister.

"Go!" I said. "She'll be here any moment." She looked like she was about to argue, but then suddenly the door slammed shut and I could hear a jingling of tossed keys and heels clacking around on the wood floors. Alice flitted out of the room, shutting the door behind her, and I quickly sat in the middle of the bed, legs crossed, eyes down, steeling myself for my fate.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

Why don't I try fighting her off? I have no idea. Maybe Alice was right, maybe I do enjoy this. Am I really this sick, this twisted? Maybe, who knows?

She came in the room not moments later, her dress already half off and she stumbled with the walk of someone almost unconscious with alcohol. I winced as she sat down next to me, but kept myself otherwise motionless. I saw her smile. Her scent was everywhere; smoke and drink. It filled my lungs and I fought the urge to gag. Bracing myself for what was to come, I chanced a look up at her.

Her eyes were glazed and bright. Her hair was in messy disarray. She probably had already had some action tonight. Slut. Her dress – like I said – was half-unzipped, falling off of one shoulder. Her heels had already been shed and she wasn't wearing a bra. I shuddered, and looked away.

"Edward…" she cooed in what I think she meant to be a sexy voice. She just sounded drunk. I made no response. "Are you ready for me?" Again I made no response, which she apparently took to be a yes. I felt her hands on me as she pushed me down onto my back, and then straddled my chest. I kept my face blank, emotionless, until I felt her slap me. Hard. I winced but made no sound. She laughed. "Come on, Edward, you know what I want…" I said nothing as my hands traveled the well-known route, going up her bent knees to her thighs, rubbing the inside of them until she was gasping and moaning. Say what you want, but doing things like this is the only reason I'm still a virgin in the technical sense of the word.

I slid two fingers inside of her, cringing inwardly as the sensation. God I hated this. She took forever to bring to a climax. It was like she was deliberately holding out on me, making this last longer. I hated her so much. To the time of her breathing, I made my numb fingers move.

Finally, she had an orgasm, and her juices flooded my fingers, soaking my hand as well as my shirt. I muffled a whimper as the offensive stuff made its way down my hands and into my wrists, making them sting. I wanted to push her away now, just get her off of me, but apparently she wasn't done yet. Curse women and their multiple orgasms.

I won't tell you what she did next, because even when bearing my darkest secrets in a journal, I still have some dignity and privacy. But by the end her scent was all over me. I couldn't shake it off. Her heat and her scent and her taste…it was too salty…too heady…The first thing I did when she left was run to the bathroom and heave. It was disturbing how easy the practice was now. I ran all of the orange-red goop down the sink and jumped into the shower, scrubbing furiously at every part of my body until I reopened my wounds. The sting of the water was good to me, and I let the blood stain the shower as it ran down the drain. I leaned against the wall, feeling the water on my face and took several deep breaths of the relatively clean air. Shutting off the water before it became cold; I dried myself with the same ferocious intent. The only different between my towels and Alice's are the slightly red stains.

I collapsed onto my bed after stripping the sheets and pillows, simply lying on the mattress, which was by now the cleanest part of my bed. Slowly I reached under the bedside table.

A few years ago, during one of Esme's more testing sessions, the table had broken awkwardly. It was made by gluing two pieces of wood together on the top, to leave space for a drawer. But no drawer had ever been put there. So when the top of the table cracked in two, I discovered the empty place, and that is where I stashed the tape; out of her sight. I pulled the small roll of film out of the table and toyed with it idly, lying on my back. I don't know how she hadn't noticed the camera but I thanked God that she hadn't. This was my only proof against her, should push come to shove.

It would be so damn easy! Just pushing it over to Alice's room, even. She would know what it was, give it to the police, or perhaps Bella who would give it to her father.

Maybe I didn't want to turn it in because I didn't want all of the last two years to be in vain. Maybe, if I believe that there was a reason for my suffering, it made it better. If I turned this in, and everything worked out ideally, then what was the point of being Esme's slave and bitch for the past two years, since this recording was made?

The thoughts were swirling around like angry hornets, and I was too tired to deal with them. So, stashing the tape again, I rolled over and fell into an exhausted sleep.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

My worst fears were realized the next day at school. Bella and Jasper stared at me all day with equal expressions of disbelieving sorrow and disgust. In biology, Bella would keep making gentle hints at how I was doing, which I answered with curt words, trying to be as polite as possible. My day from Hell.

"Edward…how are you feeling today?"

"I'm fine Bella."

She reached forward to take my hand, and I pulled away.

"Edward." I looked up, and there was so much sadness in her eyes that I almost gave in right then. There was something else though…something I couldn't place…that I had never seen. I couldn't name it. "Edward, why are you so cold with me? You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

I nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, Bella, I know."

"Alright." She hesitated. It looked like she was going to say something else, but she didn't. I was half grateful and half curious as to what she would have said, but I didn't pursue further; let sleeping dogs lie.

I had realized long ago that my feelings for Bella went deeper than friendship. I know exactly why I didn't pursue further, but I couldn't help wondering if she loved me too and if so what our relationship would be like. She was a very patient girl…perhaps we could work things out. We would graduate…go to collage…maybe even live together…but I wouldn't be able to get closer than that. I mean…she is fantastic in every way…but I couldn't even let her _touch _me. That would cause some serious problems.

But I couldn't deny the flare of jealousy I felt whenever some other guy came over and asked her out. Speak of the Devil…

"Hey, Bella."

"Hey, Mike." Mike, the guy who had caught me barfing and told the teachers. Yeah, great goodie too-shoes. Fabulous Mike Newton.

"So…I was wondering…if you would like to catch a movie with me Saturday."

I clenched my fists under the table, keeping my mouth shut. She was mine, damn it! Though I had no real claim to her, but she was my best friend aside from Alice and I knew that I would want to spend the rest of my life with her if everything worked out.

"Oh! Gee…thanks Mike but I'm going to Seattle that weekend."

"Oh…alright…how about Friday then?" Jesus, the guy is like a freaking pest. Poor Bella; I certainly wouldn't have enough patience with him.

"Sorry, Mike. Look, I know you're interested in me but I kind of like someone else. Sorry."

"Is it Cullen?" Yeah, sure, act like a kicked puppy and pretend I'm not here. I don't mind.

"Like I would tell you, Mike. I'm trying to be nice here but you're making it hard."

"Fine, whatever. Have fun with your boyfriend." He shot a venomous glare at me and I shrugged. I had no idea who it was anyway. Whoever had Bella's heart was one lucky guy.

She sighed when Mike left and put her forehead on the table. I smiled at her, reaching forward so that my hand was inches from hers. "It's alright, you know. Mike's a jerk. He doesn't deserve you."

"I know, but he doesn't seem to get that." I smiled wider at her obvious annoyance and settled down for the rest of the class.

Okay, so maybe that day wasn't entirely crap.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Alright so there's the second chapter. I kind of want this to move fast, so any ideas as to how would be appreciated.  
And also any errors you see. I have a headache so I may not see them as much as usual. Thank you for the reviewer who pointed out my mistakes. It is very much appreciated. I also have one of two possible story lines. If I start with one that you don't like let me know, and I can change it, cause I'm cool that way.  
Everyone is human, by the way. Sorry for the confusion. Love you all and keep reading!

HigherMagic x


	3. Chapter 3

**Mommy Dearest**

**aka**

**Behind Closed Doors**

**Summary: **I can't believe that she can bear to do this to me, every single day. No relief comes, but I can't bring myself to end it. I need help.

**Elaboration: **Edward and Alice are brother and sister. Edward is the child that everyone loves to hate, and his sister is the only one that he will let himself trust. Bella and Emmett Swan, and Jasper and Rosalie Hale are the only friends he has, and the only reason he keeps on living. Classic abuse story and not much fluff. All human. Major Out Of Character Moments.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

**rape**

_n. _**1. **The crime of forcing another person to submit to sex acts, especially sexual intercourse. **2. **The act of seizing and carrying off by force; abduction. **3. **Abusive or improper treatment; violation: a rape of justice.

**raped**, **rap·ing**, **rapes**

**1. **To force (another person) to submit to sex acts, especially sexual intercourse; commit rape on. **2. **To seize and carry off by force. **3. **To plunder or pillage.

* * *

That is the English and American definitions. However, every other dictionary in the world says;

**rape**

_**n.**_** 1.** The crime of having sexual intercourse with a woman against her will. **2.** The act of causing great damage, destruction etc to land etc.

_v. _**1.** To force (a woman) to have sexual intercourse against her will. **2.** To cause great damage, destruction etc to (countryside etc). plunder.

**rapist**

A man who rapes a woman.

* * *

So can a man truly ever be the victim of rape? I've always wondered how men can be raped anyway. I mean, it's a lot easier to rape a woman, surely. Break the hymen of an unwilling participant and there you go. But how do you even prove that a man had been raped? It's almost impossible unless you catch them in the act, right? I used to wonder about these things, but not anymore.

Because I realized that, no matter how disgusted and afraid you are of the situation, the brain and the penis can have very different things in mind. A man can get an erection against his will, a fact which I found quite disturbing.

"_Edward…look at me!" I didn't; I was afraid of what I'd see. I could feel her hands all over me, never once breaking the disgusting contact. I felt her nails curl and gouge into the soft skin on my stomach, and I cried out in pain. She gave me a ringing slap. "Shut up you idiot, you don't want me to have to silence you."_

"_No, mother…" I mumbled._

"_Good," she purred. Then, slowly, she lowered herself onto me…_

I woke up, gasping and clutching at…nothing. Thank God; only a dream. I felt a seeping wetness and looked down. I had actually…that's disgusting. I lifted my shirt gingerly to find that I had also left the claw marks in my stomach that I had dreamt about. I needed another shower. I glanced at the clock in my room which blared _5:38 _in green neon letters.

While I was cleansing myself – I like to think of it that way – I started thinking. Was I really going to wait around and just let that happen to me? My mind couldn't get over the fact that I had actually gotten off on that dream. How disturbing.

I needed to get out of here. I would not just wait around for Esme to finally cross that final boundary; I refused to. But what else could I do?

Maybe I could run away. Yes; that's it. I could flee, drive out of town and never come back. Make some money, get an apartment…disappear. Even as my mind formulated the appropriate plan, I felt a brief stab of guilt as I thought of Alice. And Bella. Even my other school friends. I would be abandoning them. Or maybe I wouldn't? I would call; surely…send some gifts and updates on how I was doing. They could finally move on with their lives without me burdening them. I would be free of my tormentor. The thought sent elation running hot and strong through me. I would be _free._ I had to; this was my only option, really. What else would I do, since I refused to turn Esme in, and I refused to do anything else? Yes, this was the best way. The least painful way.

Running into my room, full of new conviction, I reached under my bed, pulling a black duffel bag out from under it and setting it down on the mattress. I hastily threw in a few changes of clothes, as well as money and a first aid kit. I know that in movies, when people are running away, they will always ponder over some photograph or keepsake, but in truth, for me at least, paranoia of getting caught ran through my veins, and I had no time to linger over the things I was leaving behind. So I kept it practical. I changed into some clean clothes, trying hard as I could to remain silent, then took out a pen and some paper; I couldn't take anything with me, but I would leave my sister a note, surely.

_Alice,_

_As you've no doubt noticed already, I've left. I can't take this anymore; you were right. I was delaying the inevitable and though I can't turn her in myself, I don't think anything I will say will prevent you doing so. You know where the tape is hidden – give it to the police. Just…don't tell Bella I'm gone. Please. I don't want her to find out, however vain a hope that might be. I love you, Alice. Please don't pine over me or try and find me, just have a good life with Jasper. I will write again._

_ Edward._

That would have to do for now. I folded the paper in two and slid it under her door. I hoped that Esme wouldn't find it. I hadn't put any overt hints in there, just in case of that. Shouldering my duffel bag, I slid like a wraith out of the house and into my Volvo. The engine purred to life and I drove out of the long driveway without a glance back.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

I was in Seattle when my phone went off.

"Hello?" I asked, not bothering to check the caller ID.

"Edward? Where the hell are you?" My heart broke at Alice's distraught voice.

"I thought I made it clear in my note Alice; don't try and find me."

"You're not thinking clearly. Please Edward, come back to me. You don't want the police to be following up a missing person's report, do you?"

"You wouldn't dare," I said, my teeth clenching.

"No, but Esme will. Please Edward, think this through."

"I have." There was a pause on the other line, and I sighed. "Alice, please listen. I will get myself settled down, make some money, and then I shall call you again. I swear; this isn't the end between us. You can't get rid of your brother that easily." I smiled a little.

"Do you…really want me to turn in the tape?"

I sighed again. "I don't really care anymore. Go right ahead. It would make the police not listen to Esme…she might not file a missing person's report then…if you did, or Carlisle…I don't know anymore, damn it!" My fists clenched around the steering wheel, making my wrists throb painfully.

"It's alright, Edward. Don't hurt yourself. Be safe, okay? I hope to see you soon."

"Love you, Alice."

"Love you too, little brother." She hung up, and I held the phone to my ear for a few more seconds, listening to the dial tone. Sighing, I closed the silver device. Finally, I had found the turn-off I was looking for. I hurriedly pulled into the secluded road, going a few miles down that way before pulling to the side and stopping. I reached into the duffel bag in the passenger's seat and pulled out the first aid kit I had packed. Reaching in, I pulled out some bandages and pliers that I had packed in a few years ago. I realized that I had subconsciously been building this up for years; everything I needed I found in there. Amazing that I had already thought this up before actually deciding on it.

Though I had no real idea what I was doing, I looked at the embedded metal in my wrists closely, holding the pliers in one hand. Bracing myself for possibly the stupidest thing I had ever done in my life, I reached the pliers in and proceeded to pull and cut at the metal. Blood ran down my forearms as I unintentionally cut myself doing so, but eventually I pulled out the long bloodied chain, which still clung to a few pieces of dead and broken-off pieces of my arm. Blanching, I threw the chain into the bushes and did the same to my right wrist. Both of my forearms were covered in blood, and I quickly doused the wounds in antiseptic – which stung like hell – before wrapping them in crude bandages. Like I said before, I had no real idea what to do, but it stopped the bleeding and the antiseptic would help against infections, so it was the best I could do. I did a quick u-turn and drove onto the highway again, driving past Seattle and onward. It was just approaching noon and I was starving, but I daren't stop near anywhere where someone would have a chance of recognizing me.

So I drove on and on. No one else called me, which I took to be neither good nor bad. I kept driving, only stopping to fill my gas tank. I was glad my Volvo got such good mileage; I didn't have to stop as often.

Once in Seattle, I turned more West and South and made my way towards Yakima. It was a city with a population of eighty-four thousand people. There was a sign as I entered, claiming the place as "The Palm Springs of Washington". I had to smile at that. I drove through the city, accustoming myself to everything that I could. No one paid me a second glance, which I was very glad of. I finally found a pretty nice and cheap motel to stay in. The guy behind the register glanced at me a little suspiciously, but I paid him no heed. I stayed in my room all night, falling into an exhausted and fitful sleep.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

The next morning I woke up having no idea where I was.

I panicked momentarily, but then all of the previous day's events came flooding back to me, and I relaxed. So, I had actually run away. Wow. I didn't know I had it in me. I was finally on my own, not having to fear or rely on anyone. What a strange frightening relief. I had no one to fall back on now, no one to comfort me at night. Of course, I also had no one lurking outside my room just waiting to cause me pain.

I did, however, have a killer headache. How weird. I hadn't had a headache since I was perhaps twelve. I didn't naturally get them. I sat up on my bed and flicked the tiny television on, flipping through the channels until I reached the news.

"- _leaving the game at 51 to 30. And now, in other news, a seventeen-year-old teenager has been reported missing in the state of Washington. Missing for over twenty-four hours, Edward Cullen disappeared without a trace, presumed to have taken his car and leaving the town of Forks, in the Olympic Peninsula. His mother, Esme Cullen, found his room empty when her calls to his room were met with silence. Here is his picture, if anyone sees him; they are urged to call the police, who are trying to find his whereabouts. They are, however, warned not to approach him, as he is deemed to have a fragile mental state. Also, a new breakthrough in the cure for diabetes. Mr Mark Johnson –"_

I turned the TV off, eyes wide. Wow, she really jumped the gun, didn't she? I kind of expected a week relapse or two. Or dear Lord, people are going to recognize me now…I had to leave. I packed up my stuff, glad that I had paid in cash last night. I flung the bag into my Volvo and took off. Several people saw me, and said nothing. A few – I was scared to see – pulled out their cell phones. I stepped down on the gas. I had to get out of here.

Freaking fragile mental state? What the hell?! Stupid bitch would keep haunting me forever. At least it wasn't on the national news yet, just local. I had to get out of the state.

My cell phone rang again. Alice. "What the hell did she do?"

"She called the police and the news stations as soon as she got up. She knew already that you wouldn't be there, I think. She doesn't know anything about the tape yet, or anything, I don't think. You have to come back now, Edward. The police will get you, you know they will."

"Just turn in the freaking tape, Alice. Just do it! As soon as that bitch is in jail I'll come home."

"I -." I heard a faint beeping in the background. I paused.

"Alice…" My voice was low, and I think it frightened her, because hers was shaking when she replied.

"Yes, Edward?"

"Are you alone? Don't lie to me." I was instantly suspicious when she didn't reply for a second. Call me crazy, but I think I heard muted muttering in the background. "Is someone recording this?!" I heard her sharp intake of breath. "Alice, I can't believe you." I honestly couldn't. She would sell me out like this? I went to hang up the phone, but Alice called for me to wait. I gritted my teeth and did so.

"Edward." The voice was new, but I recognized it as Chief Swan's, Bella's father. I was rather impressed that they would possess tracking and recording equipment in such a small town as Forks.

"Yes, Chief Swan?" I asked politely, forcing myself not to simply hang up and throw the phone away.

"You need to return home son. Your mother misses you."

I couldn't hold back my snarl. "She _misses _me? I highly doubt that, Chief."

"It's true. She's in hysterics right now."

I bet, only because she's afraid that I'll turn her in or something. Good actress. "I don't think so."

"Edward, don't make me call the higher authorities on you. We will find you, son."

"I hope you do."

Pause.

"Goodbye, Charlie. Send Bella my love." I hung up then, throwing my phone onto the side of the road and stepping down harder on the gas, pulling away from the sight that they would last be able to know of my whereabouts. Where to go now? No idea. Great. Let's wing it.

So I drove, and took the road South. Out of Washington.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

I didn't bother buying another cell phone, nor did I pay for anything with my credit card. Nothing that they could trace. But I was running dangerously low on cash. I need to get some quickly. Rob a bank? Nah, too cliché. Get a job? Bingo. But something requiring long sleeves would be nice. And no TVs with news on them…and maybe somewhere nice and high paying? Let's not set the bar too high though.

I can't believe that Alice would sell me out like that. Why didn't she just turn in the tape? Had she already? I had no idea. It didn't seem like it, if Charlie still believed Esme. Maybe…

Maybe she was waiting for higher authorities. It would make sense. She knew me, so she would know that I wouldn't just turn myself in, so she would have to wait…then turn it in…But why? Would Charlie really be that inclined to believe Esme over physical evidence? But people who didn't know my parents personally wouldn't. Oh, you're a genius Alice.

I smiled a little, and flicked on the radio.

_On the outskirts of town he's living' a dream  
Where they weather their storms  
Praying down on the their knees  
And they hold to each other 'cause they know what they found  
On the outskirts of town_

Sawyer Brown. Nice, but I'm not really in the mood for that. Next station.

_I cannot find a way to describe it  
It's there inside; all I do is hide  
I wish that it would just go away  
What would you do, you do, if you knew  
What would you do_

_All the pain I thought I knew  
All the thoughts lead back to you  
Back to what was never said  
Back and forth inside my head  
I can't handle this confusion  
I'm unable; come and take me away_

_I feel like I am all alone  
All by myself I need to get around this_

Hmm…Avril Lavigne. Fitting song, but again, I wasn't really in the mood for her songs.

_Going back to the corner where I first saw you,  
Gonna camp in my sleeping bag. I'm not gonna move,  
Got some words on cardboard got your picture in my hand,  
Saying if you see this girl can you tell her where I am,  
Some try to hand me money they don't understand,  
I'm not... broke I'm just a broken hearted man,  
I know it makes no sense, but what else can I do,  
How can I move on when I've been in love with you..._

_Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me,  
And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I can be,  
Thinking maybe you'd come back here to the place that we'd meet,  
And you'd see me waiting for you on the corner of the street._

The Script. It's a good song, I'll admit, though I don't exactly understand why he just doesn't find her. I mean, I get the whole 'passive waiting' thing, believe me; I do, but still…

_  
So I'm not moving...  
I'm not moving._

_Policeman says son you can't stay here,  
I said there's someone I'm waiting for if it's a day, a month, a year,  
Gotta stand my ground even if it rains or snows,  
If she changes her mind this is the first place she will go._

_Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me,  
And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I can be,  
Thinking maybe you'd come back here to the place that we'd meet,  
And you'd see me waiting for you on the corner of the street._

_So I'm not moving...  
I'm not moving._

_I'm not moving...  
I'm not moving._

_People talk about the guy  
Who's waiting on a girl...  
Oohoohwoo  
There are no holes in his shoes  
But a big hole in his world...  
Hmmmm_

_Maybe I'll get famous as man who can't be moved,  
And maybe you won't mean to but you'll see me on the news,  
And you'll come running to the corner...  
Cause you'll know it's just for you_

_I'm the man who can't be moved  
I'm the man who can't be moved..._

_Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me,  
And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I can be,  
Thinking maybe you'd come back here to the place that we'd meet,  
And you'd see me waiting for you on the corner of the street._

_So I'm not moving...  
I'm not moving._

_I'm not moving...  
I'm not moving._

_Going back to the corner where I first saw you,  
Gonna camp in my sleeping bag not I'm not gonna move._

I suddenly switched the radio off as Madonna's 'She's not me' came on. She's a great singer and all, but a 50-year-old should _not _still be wearing a belt for a skirt, no matter how hot her body is. That's just wrong. I firmly believe that people should dress their age and position and life. Anything above and below is a person just trying to make up for something, in my opinion.

Of course, I dressed like a mugger, but that's beside the point – I have to.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

I found another motel a few hundred miles later. It was late then. I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and all the thoughts that I had suppressed came back to me tenfold with others.

I would probably have to abandon the Volvo, since they would have gotten a tag on it by now. I felt a little pang in my stomach – I loved my car. But what must be done must be done, right? And I'd have to change my name and get new credit cards and everything. Everything was so damn complicated! Why couldn't running away be as simple as everyone makes it out to be? Sigh. I rolled over onto my side, ignoring the rumbling of my stomach, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

In the middle of the night I heard a light clicking. My eyes shot open and I stilled my breathing, listening on high alert. I would be surprised if it was a thief, because honestly, who would rob a Motel 6? Flashlights roved on the other side of the closed curtain by the door, and I slowly got to my feet, making no sound. I started to grab my duffel bag, having a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, when there was a soft knock on the door. I froze. Crap; the police. What to do, what to do? I looked around for any possible chance of escape.

"Edward?" a soft voice called from the other side, one I didn't recognize. "Edward, we know you're in there. We have you surrounded. Come on out, son." What was this, CSI? I looked through the peephole in the door, and saw two officers, one with a gun pointed at the door, and the other looking around and fidgeting with the typical bored police chief pose. I also saw another figure that was blurred by the edge of the lens, and couldn't make out the details. I looked through a gap in the curtains and saw much of the same thing, but still the angle prevented me seeing the figure. I didn't see caramel, so it wasn't Esme, but was I to say she wasn't waiting around for me? Was Alice here too? I recalled that there had been a window in the bathroom, but it was too small for me to crawl through. Damn it, I was trapped. I sensation made me feel claustrophobic. I was caught again. Esme was going to kill me.

"Edward." The knock came again, more persistent this time. They weren't going to let up, they knew I was here. There had to be some way of escape, surely? I was on the second floor, with a six foot balcony-walkway outside my door. They made it too easy for criminals in TV shows.

"Edward!" The door busted down, and black-clad figures swarmed in like bees. They all carried guns, but only three pointed at me while the rest searched the room. Why they would do that, I had no idea, but whatever. Do your thing, I guess.

They backed me into a corner, the lights on their guns blinding me and preventing me seeing their faces. I felt my back pressed against the wall as they continue their advance.

"Don't touch him!" the Chief warned. "He's not stable." Not stable? Well, whatever. Go with the flow. I let out a defeated sigh. Someone, though, came forward, holding handcuffs, and pulled my arm forward to fasten them. I flinched back, throwing the man away. "I said don't touch him, damn it!"

It was too late now. I was in full scared animal mode. I ran towards the door, ignoring the alarmed shouts I heard behind me. Out the door, I vaulted over the railing to the balcony, my hands and wrists screaming in protest, and landed with a jolt on the ground. I stumbled, catching myself with my knees and growled in pain. That was going to sting in the morning. I got up to run and felt a stinging pain in my shoulder. I reached up, in my confusion forgetting to run, and my fingers came away bloody. Son of a…someone shot me! Was that legal? I heard the officers coming down the stairs to me, the others fixing more guns on my position, but I was frozen, my burst of adrenaline gone.

"Edward!" I looked up, and there was a girl, staring down at me wide-eyed. Was I dreaming? She seemed really familiar…The pain was pretty real. Guess not. Huh. Cool. I smiled, still a little dazed, but her eyes were fixed on the blood in my hand, and my newly-exposed wrists, where the bandages had come off, revealing the purple and black skin. Necrosis, probably. Ouch.

I suddenly felt a jolting pain throughout my entire system. My muscles convulsed, leaving me a writhing, twitching pile on the floor. What the hell had happened? I couldn't control anything, any muscle or nerve. Everything felt like it was on fire. I looked up to the officer that was holding a tazer in his hand. A freaking tazer? Was that entirely necessary? Apparently.

I felt more hands putting handcuffs on me, and I hissed as they rubbed my wounds. They kept touching me, and I longed to get away, to kick at them and flee, but the 50,000 volts in my body kind of prevented that. Stupid tazers. I swear that those were illegal too. Great. The chief pulled out a needle from a briefcase and I froze, stopping my struggles immediately. What the hell was in that? As soon as my struggling had stopped, it kicked back up again. I was in desperate need to get away, away from the needles, from the officers, from Esme. I needed to run, but I couldn't. How infuriating.

The pain in my arm was brief, and my veins suddenly seemed filled with lead. My eyelids were heavy, though I tried to fight it. I felt suddenly exhausted. I didn't want to sleep, I wanted to run. Unfortunately, my body wasn't listening to what I wanted.

The last thing I remembered was a small white hand running their hands through my hair, humming a soothing tune.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm sure you know the drill by now; review and let me know of any mistakes. Okay, the only arrests I know about I saw on CSI, so I honestly have no idea, but I kind of made fun of it, so don't take this too seriously.  
The three songs were:  
"Outskirts of Town" – Sawyer Brown  
"Take me Away" – Avril Lavigne  
"The Man Who Can't Be Moved" – The Script  
Oh and when it says "filled with lead" I meant the pencil lead, but I'm not sure how to spell it, so I'm sorry if it's wrong.

Love you all! Please Review!

HigherMagic x


	4. Chapter 4

**Mommy Dearest**

**aka**

**Behind Closed Doors**

**Summary: **I can't believe that she can bear to do this to me, every single day. No relief comes, but I can't bring myself to end it. I need help.

**Elaboration: **Edward and Alice are brother and sister. Edward is the child that everyone loves to hate, and his sister is the only one that he will let himself trust. Bella and Emmett Swan, and Jasper and Rosalie Hale are the only friends he has, and the only reason he keeps on living. Classic abuse story and not much fluff. All human. Major Out Of Character Moments.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

* * *

I noticed that I have begun every stage in my…narrative so far with a philosophical or not-so-easy-to-answer question. Let me start with a big one here; what drives people to do evil things? If God created us all the same, equal and with the same sense of morality, so why do people shun that way, choose to be different? Less generally; why are people religious and evil at the same time? For instance, you will notice that the stereotype for mob bosses is an Italian cigar-smoker with two cronies and slicked back black hair, yet Italians are some of the most devout Catholics in the world. And if that were not enough of a paradox; many Italian mob bosses were Catholics to their dying day. And here's why:

People always think that there will be time for repentance, but here's the snag; it doesn't work that way. Having a priest crouching over your dead or dying form, whispering last rights or whatever does not pardon you from all of your sins. Of course, people would like to believe it does, because then it means that they can commit all sorts of crimes in their life.

But does God really exist? All we have are 'visions' and 'experiences' from religious leaders, and various tomes written from the past. So of course all we have to rely on is suspicion. The same human emotion that condemns many of us also saves us. Suspicion is the only thing that keeps some of us good, because we _suspect_ that there will be judgment one day, and we don't want to be caught red-handed.

But what if, when we die, there is no priest, no one to welcome our souls – if we have them – to the next life? If we go down in the barrage of bullets, do we deserve our sentence beyond eternity? The Italian mob bosses often get their just desserts, but if they do not – if they win – do they not have more blood on their hands, more to repent for? We live in a cruel and dangerous world, and the only thing keeping us on the brink of sanity is _suspicion._

So don't condemn those who are distrusting; they are the wisest of us all.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

I woke up to the same sensation of fingers running through my hair. The hands were small, but not as small and cold as Alice's, with her bad circulation. I tensed immediately. There was a regular beeping going on nearby, and the rate accelerated as I began to panic – I couldn't open my eyes.

"Bella, you should get away from him now. He's awake." I knew that voice.

"Alice." My voice was garbled. I felt like I had just come out of hibernation or something. I tried rolling over, but found I couldn't. Alarmed, my eyes finally opened, and I looked down at myself.

I was in a room, painted in various shades of white. I had a thin wool blanket on, which was also an off-white color, and an IV stuck out of my right arm. I also had a heart monitor hooked up to me, which was probably what the beeping was. Yes, definitely.

I looked around. I was alone except for the five people in my room. As if that weren't reason to panic enough, four of them were female. And if _that _wasn't reason to panic enough…Esme was there.

My heart rate began to climb again as my eyes met hers. Her amber gaze was alight with triumph, her lips curled into a smile which, on the surface, looked like relief. I was the only one capable of seeing the sadistic ways behind it. Alice was next to me, on my left side, between me and Esme, which I was incredibly grateful for. Bella was on my right, next to my head, her hands resting on my bed. She smiled a little when I met her gaze, and I managed a little smile in return, but the heart rate monitor was still beeping erratically, and the fourth female – the nurse – was fussing over the machine worriedly.

"Edward, you really must calm down," she said, reading the numbers with a furrowed brow, her dark blue eyes concerned.

"Get her out of here," I somehow managed to choke out, looking towards Esme.

"Edward…" Esme looked hurt. I scoffed inwardly. She really was quite a good actress; almost good enough to fool me.

Almost.

"Get out," I hissed, fixing her with a glare. Bella and Alice looked between us, obviously unsure of what to do. Esme took a step forward and I clenched my fists, ignoring my aching muscles' screams of protest. I clenched my jaw as she took yet another step forward.

"Mother…" Alice began carefully. "I think maybe Edward needs time to recover."

Esme glared at Alice for a long time, probably having some kind of showdown. With the barrier of my stubborn sister between us, I felt myself relaxing a little. I was absolutely exhausted. The substance that I now realized was a sedative did nothing for my actual need for sleep. I was hungry, too, having not eaten a real meal – and kept it down – since about three days ago, depending on how long I was asleep for. Where was I anyway? This didn't look like Forks' hospital, but I had never really been before in case a doctor saw my injuries and asked about it. Secrecy was all the rage back then.

Esme seemed to realize that she couldn't win this battle with so many witnesses. "Of course! My poor sweet boy. He needs to get better so that he can come home." I cringed, but no one saw it. She swept out of the room, and I saw a few police officers talking quietly with my father outside. I hope that I didn't jeopardize his job…Too late now.

"How are you feeling?" My attention returned to the remaining three figures – the nurse had left after my heart rate returned to normal – in my room. I was calmer now, because one was my sister, whom I trusted wholeheartedly, even though she sold me out, the other was Bella, who I trusted enough not to hurt me, and the third – and I'm surprised to say this – was Jasper. He was the one who had spoken.

"Do you want the truth or a sugar-coated version?"

"Truth, please." Bella and Alice nodded in agreement.

I sighed and took in a deep breath; my rant was going to be long and tiring. "I feel like I haven't eaten in days, I'm about to fall asleep because I haven't had more than three hours at any given time. I can't feel my arms, which I must admit is quite worrying. I want to assume that I still have a bullet in my shoulder because it hurts like hell, I have no idea where I am, and to be quite frank I'm scared to death about it."

Bella smiled sadly. "You're in the hospital in Seattle. They couldn't get the bullet out – it was lodged in your shoulder – but they managed to make sure that it wasn't going to cause you any future harm, and they stitched you up. Your wrists were in the middle stages of necrosis and they had to cut out the dead flesh, and they put skin grafts on them, so you'll only have a few faint scars when it's done healing. You have been asleep for thirteen hours, but I can understand why you're exhausted and, if what Alice tells me is true, then you have a right to be hungry also."

"Alice told you?" I asked quietly.

"Everything," she answered.

I sighed, leaning my head back in my pillow. It was inevitable, really, that she should know, but I didn't really want Alice to have told her, because Alice could be a bit candid at times, and she didn't really edit a lot. Bella probably knew every disgusting secret.

"Alice, have you turned in the tape?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because…you weren't thinking straight, and I didn't think that this was what you really wanted."

"So what's the story with the police?"

"They're looking up all of the charges of abuse, but right now…Esme and Carlisle are claiming that you did it to yourself."

"What?!" I shot upwards.

Or tried to. Only now did I notice the restraints keeping me down. There were two around my legs, just below the knee and one above the ankle on each, and two on my forearms, since my wrists were covered in white bandages and stitching. There was also a strap around my torso, preventing me sitting up completely. I thrashed against the restraints for a few seconds before collapsing, exhaustion overwhelming me.

"Where am I?"

"…In the psyche ward."

"So…people think I'm crazy?"

"Haven't you been watching the news?"

"Yeah…"

Pause.

"Do you think I'm crazy?"

Another pause, longer than the first. I looked at my sister in surprise.

"Alice…"

"Well, what do you want me to think, Edward?" There were tears in her eyes. She was in pain to say this, but I couldn't believe her. I looked at her incredulously. I couldn't believe that my sister – my _sister _– would betray me like this; not only did she tell the cops of my whereabouts, but now she thinks I'm insane? This was so surreal. "What do you want me to say? You ran away, and look at you! You're starving yourself and you're half-dead! The police found the chains in your wrists on the highway, still covered in your blood. How did you get them out, Edward? Pry them out with your bare hands? It wouldn't surprise me." Her tears were spilling over now, and Jasper started to come forward and comfort her.

"But Alice…you know what's happening. You knew what was going on. You know that I have a justifiable reason for everything. Alice, I'm your brother!"

She shook her head, and said nothing.

I turned to Bella desperately. "You don't think I'm insane, do you?"

Her beautiful eyes were shining with unshed tears as well, and she looked down, her hair covering her face.

"Isabella Swan…" my words came out harsher than I intended, but I kept on going, "you seriously think I'm crazy? Does everyone think that?"

"Rosalie does. Emmett still doesn't know about the…about Esme and everything, neither of them does. I…don't think you're insane, Edward. I just think that you need help."

"I'm not insane! I'm not!" I was staring up at the ceiling now, trying to come to terms with this betrayal. The monitor started beeping wildly again. "I'll prove it to you, I swear."

"Edward, please, you'll hurt yourself."

"I'm not a child, Bella! I've seen things you wouldn't even dream of, so don't you dare treat me like a child!"

"Edward -."

"Can I talk to my son now, please?"

Esme's voice cut through all the tension, but only to replace it with her own. I froze, my eyes slowly locking with hers. No…this couldn't be happening. She started forward.

"Get her away from me!" I started thrashing against the restraints with new determination. She said nothing but continued her advance. "Don't let her touch me!"

"Edward…it's alright."

"I think you're the one who should be in this bed, Isabella, not me. Don't let her come near me."

"Edward, I'm hurt," Esme said, putting on a wounded face. I snarled; my fists clenched as I tried to get away. There was no escape though. The monitor was beeping with a vengeance now. I would probably go into cardiac arrest or something. I tried to reach at any one restraint, to get some freedom of movement, but I couldn't. Damn it! Why wasn't anyone doing anything? Alice and Jasper had retreated from the room, and Bella was standing in the far corner, watching on. There were no barriers between Esme and I now; we had been reduced to a repetition that had become commonplace in our home. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

"Esme, get away from me! If you touch me, I'll kill you! I'll kill myself! I would threaten to kill us both but I don't even want to chance a meeting in the afterlife."

Now here is an interesting fact; when in a hospital psyche ward, very close to having a heart attack and thrashing against your bonds, yelling death threats and suicide threats are as bad as yelling 'bombs!' in an airport. Seriously, just don't do it. Very, very bad things come of it.

Nurses and Doctors rushed in from all sides, blocking her from my view. I relaxed immediately, knowing that she couldn't penetrate the ring that the doctors had formed. Though there were only half a dozen of them – at most – they all worked like ants, bustling around me until they were sure that everything was still intact and working, I assumed. One doctor held up a needle, pushing it into the IV in my arm. I didn't protest; I was so tired and drained. I wanted food and sleep. Sigh, but I noticed that those were two things that you rarely ever got in hospitals.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

I slept for another few hours, and then slowly began my 'treatment'. The doctors put me on a mixture of steroids – I never found out why, probably for my immune system which was suffering – and I began to look and feel better than I had since my childhood. I could start eating almost normal-sized meals, and keep them down. My wrists were healing, and Bella had been right – there were only a few scars there now. My other wounds on my arms and stomach and legs had long ago healed over. I was sleeping more, though nightmares constantly plagued me. Life was actually looking up, and I found myself hoping.

Esme didn't visit me – the doctors had enough sense to see that her presence was not good for my recovery – but Bella did. She was the only one, actually. Alice would send a few things via Bella, but she was my only visitor. I wasn't actually that mindful; I trusted her. Perhaps more than I should, but I trusted her. Sometimes we talked, sometimes not, sometimes she read to me while I sat watching her, and sometimes I just sat and reveled in her company. We didn't talk about the outside world; nothing else existed but her and me.

I was expecting her today, so I was very surprised when Alice came in the room. She watched me like I was a wild animal, ready to attack at any moment. The look saddened me. She really thought that I was insane, and she was afraid of me. She shouldn't have to fear me.

"Edward," she greeted solemnly.

"Alice," I replied with an equal monotone.

She seemed to relax a little at the sound of my voice. She walked forward and sat herself in the chair by my bed, where Bella sat during her visits. She smiled a little, taking in my appearance.

"You look better."

"Yeah, but I bet I'm hugely out of shape now."

"You were never in good shape anyway, Edward," she snapped. She was really aggravated; her body was tense and she couldn't stay still. I tilted my head to the side.

"Alice, something wrong?"

She hesitated. "They're…releasing you tomorrow."

"What?"

"Deaf now?"

"No…it's just a shock." I sat back with a slight smile, the idea of getting out of here very inviting, but then terror overtook me. "Oh God…I can't go back there Alice, I can't. I can't go back home, to Esme." Though the heart monitor had been taken away a few days ago, I could feel the blood rushing through my veins, pounding in my ears and the fear overtook me in huge waves. I felt my chest constricting painfully. It was becoming difficult to breathe again.

"Edward, calm down, you're going to hurt yourself and end up right back here."

"Here's better than there."

"Edward, just listen to me." I focused on her, though it took a disturbing amount of effort. "Listen, I have a plan."

"I'm listening, Alice. Get on with it."

"Well…I've moved in with Jasper, as you know." I nodded; she had done so soon after I was admitted. "And I still have the tape. I'm using it to convince Esme to take a very long 'vacation' in Europe. Emmett and Rosalie are going away to collage and…well…I want you to stay with Bella. She's agreed to stay with you in your house, to help with your 'rehabilitation'. Esme is going to be gone for three months. I was kind of hoping that…I don't know…you'd be over it by then."

I opened my mouth, and then closed it. I did that a few times more. I wasn't sure how I felt about this. I weighed up the pros and cons in my head.

"No, Alice. I'm not doing that."

"Why not?"

"Why haven't you turned in the tape, anyway?"

"I…"

Realization dawned. "You don't want Esme in jail, do you? You don't want her to pay for her crimes."

"Of course I do, I just don't want her to do it that way."

"No you don't, liar. Of course…it makes sense now…why you sold me out…I can't believe you Alice, I trusted you. I trusted you!" I tried to sit up, but was once again held back by the restraints; they hadn't taken them off yet. She sat back a little, seeing the action. "I can't believe you would betray me like this, Alice! Have you not seen what she did to me? Do you want to see the pictures that the doctors and police took again? I almost lost all of the circulation in my hands, and I got shot in the shoulder. And tazed! Do you have any idea how fucking painful that is? No, of course you don't, because you're the poor damsel, aren't you? Mother and Father love you, of course. They hate me, so of course you want them to go free, and you'd be happy for me to just rot in here. Esme should be rotting in her cell, but no, I'm the one who gets the short stick, as usual. I honestly expected better of you, Alice. Do you want me out of your life forever? Fine! Go live your perfect life with Jasper, all the best, really." I spat the bitter words out, my anger making my tongue loose. "I hope you have the model life, and I hope that when you have kids you don't turn out just like Esme. You're a lot like her sometimes. You better make sure that Jasper doesn't cheat and create a bastard child like your bastard brother. But of course, I won't be in your life anymore, so I won't even exist. You want me to get over this Alice? This isn't the sort of thing you get over, alright? You have never known pain like mine, and I pray to God that you never will, just stop acting like such a damned hypocrite Alice, because you're not fooling me. Just leave." I sat back, exhausted from my long rant and breathing hard. Alice's face was perfectly composed, but I could see the tears and I knew that I had delivered some low blows, but I was too angry to care.

She stood up. "Alright, Edward. I'll tell Bella that you're not interested, and I'll…see you around, I guess." She left the room then, and I was surprised to feel little to no remorse. She deserved every word, stupid conniving little…Damn it all. God loved to mess with me, didn't he? Was I purposely not meant to trust anybody? What did that accomplish? I would be suspicious of people my entire life, never trusting anyone, and never letting anybody in. What a lonely life. At least, in my past life, I had had Alice.

Never, in all my years of abuse, neglect and torment, had I ever felt more alone.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

_I miss my friend  
The one my heart and soul confided in  
The one I felt the safest with  
The one who knew just what to say to make me laugh again  
And let the light back in  
I miss my friend_

_I miss those times  
I miss those nights  
I even miss the silly fights  
The making up  
The morning talks  
And those late afternoon walks_

_I miss my friend  
The one my heart and soul confided in  
The one I felt the safest with_

Was the radio reading my mind?

* * *

**Author's Note: **Wow. Never in all of my planning did I expect that! That chapter had a mind of its own. Don't worry though, Bella will help Edward.  
Or will she? Will he suspect her too? You'll have to wait and see, won't you?  
Song was "I Miss My Friend" – Daryl Worley  
Review and let me know of mistakes! Love you all!

HigherMagic x


	5. Chapter 5

**Mommy Dearest**

**aka**

**Behind Closed Doors**

**Summary: **I can't believe that she can bear to do this to me, every single day. No relief comes, but I can't bring myself to end it. I need help.

**Elaboration: **Edward and Alice are brother and sister. Edward is the child that everyone loves to hate, and his sister is the only one that he will let himself trust. Bella and Emmett Swan, and Jasper and Rosalie Hale are the only friends he has, and the only reason he keeps on living. Classic abuse story and not much fluff. All human. Major Out Of Character Moments.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Addiction.

What do our minds conjure for us when we say or think the word? Some of us look at a chain smoker or binge drinker, or a kleptomaniac and we say that they have an addiction to something. While this may be true, we like to give ourselves a false sense of superiority by giving their addiction a name; because what we name we can look down upon. But what of the unnamed addictions, the ones that no one bothers to categorize? Everyone has an addiction, be it for a person or a thing. When the chain smoker begins his withdrawal, and tried to get over his craving for nicotine, he often will become dependant on another thing, and it is most likely caffeine. I have noticed that caffeine addicts and smokers often keep the same company, but do not allow me to generalize everyone as such, I am merely making observations. So, by overcoming one addiction, we are hooked upon another. People who keep air fresheners in their homes will grow accustomed to the smell, and when those fresheners run out, they go buy more. Because they are _addicted _to the smell, not as strong as the heroin addict, but still enough for them to want more, if you see my point.

I myself admit that I am addicted to things. I am absolutely intoxicated by the love of my life, but I get ahead of myself. The last point that I left you at in my journal – which I am quite amazed you are still reading – I had confronted my sister about her betrayal. Let me skip ahead five years, for nothing of notable mention happened between the two ages. I will, however, skip over the highlights, or lack thereof.

I didn't speak to my sister after that, nor did I speak to my mother. The doctors wanted me to live in a care home until I was deemed fully stable, which I did until I was nineteen. Bella visited me every day but, true to my word, I never allowed myself connection with her. I distanced myself emotionally, because she would only hurt me if I let her in. She eventually stopped coming. I lost contact with all of my former 'friends'. Jasper proposed to Alice, and they are currently living in an apartment complex in New York. Alice is pursuing a career in fashion modeling and design while Jasper is focusing on architecture and histories. I think he became a college professor as well, to help make ends meet. That is, that's what I heard last time I had contact with Jasper, which was well over three years ago. Emmett and Rose are engaged and live together in Seattle while Emmett coaches football at the university, and Rosalie took up a job in auto mechanics and such-like. I have no idea what happened to Bella – the others refused to speak of her. I figured it was my fault, and she wouldn't want to talk to me anyway, so I had let the matter drop.

On my nineteenth birthday, when I left the care home and went to college, my father gave me a large settlement – well over five million – for me to live on for the rest of my life. I went to one of the best colleges in the country and graduated early and finished university also. My music professor offered to have a word with a friend in recording, and I eagerly accepted. I was the newest up-and-coming young artist; Edward Masen. I dropped my name when I was twenty and took up my mother's, because I didn't want anything to do with Esme or her remembrance. I wanted a fresh start and I worked very hard to get one. I bought an apartment in Boston and have been living there ever since. It's nice and big, with plenty of room for all of the instruments that I undertook to learn. I have at least three baby grand pianos and various types of recording equipment, and I'm now making around six figures a year – a salary that is steadily climbing – so I'm pretty well-off in life.

I will admit, I've had a few flings, but I never let myself get emotionally involved. It was purely a relationship of self-gratification, because I wasn't happy with anyone. No one struck the right cord. Perhaps if I ever find that one right woman, I would let her in, but until then I will stick with my lifestyle, because it's the only one I have.

People often speak highly of the rich and famous lifestyle, and I must admit that I am fairly lucky in that I don't have paparazzi lurking everywhere – I'm not famous enough yet. But the life of partying and drinking and constantly having to be seen wears down on you. It really does.

But it's my addiction, because I always come back for more.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

I never imagined that I would see her again, but once I did, it was like I had never left.

I had gotten a call from a major magazine that wished for an interview. Though I detested the idea, I agreed, since I was getting bored of my usual monotonous routine, and fancied a change. So at eleven on a Saturday, I dressed and made my way to the building in my silver Volvo. The car was still mine, and I was so glad that I hadn't gotten rid of it. This was one thing that I refused to give up about my past. It sort of reminded me of my roots, and I found an odd comfort in driving the car. The seat was still bloodstained from where I had forcibly removed the chains from my wrists, but I no longer paid the marks heed.

My wrists had healed remarkably well after my surgery, and in the years following. Now all that remained was two light scars on each arm around the joint, and one further up my right forearm. They were almost as pale as my skin, so sometimes I had to look very hard to see them. My shoulder still twanged a little if I slept on that arm or if I moved it wrong, but other than that I was healthy. I had gained weight and body mass to a more acceptable level, and I slept throughout the nights easily – though granted those were sometimes with the aid of pills – and the black circles under my eyes were gone.

I parked the car outside and walked through to the reception. The woman behind the desk smiled at me and directed me up to the third floor after I told her that I had an interview with Mr Kynly. I followed her directions and sat in the plush waiting room until I was called forward. Unlike the other occupants of the room, I did not twitch or fidget; I was someone with endless patience now. It was nice, refreshing, not to have to be on edge all of the time. Another thing I was addicted to.

"Alright…Mr Masen?"

I looked up at the pretty blonde girl who had spoken and stood. She smiled, her eyes looking me up and down in a way that I had come to recognize, and almost expect. Once I had been released from the care home and gone to college, I had quickly developed the reputation of a ladies' man and an extremely desirable companion. At first, I had avoided girls at all costs, but women can be so damn persistent; I gave in eventually. My reputation preceded me wherever I went, almost to the point of annoyance. And my now-light and easygoing manner only made me more attractive to the opposite sex…and the same sex, but I won't go into that.

I followed the girl – she couldn't have been more than seventeen – to a closed door that was the same white as the rest of the interior. It was so bland and cold, like a hospital. She knocked politely on the door and called in my name, and a voice called from the other side to enter. The voice sounded faintly familiar, but I quickly cast the notions aside, sure that my mind was playing tricks on me.

I opened the door, and stopped. The office was large, with a huge oak desk almost dividing the room in two. Bookshelves and diplomas decorated the walls behind the desk, but my eyes were glued on the woman in the chair behind it. The voice finally made its stubborn way into my head, putting the face to the sound.

"B…Bella?"

She looked up from her desk, and her beautiful brown eyes widened. Her hair was longer, and pulled to the side over her shoulder, but still the gorgeous brown that I remembered. She was dressed in a beige suit that clung to her figure in a very flattering way, but all I could focus on were her eyes. They were the endless deep brown that I remembered. Her namesake was the only thing that I could use to describe her; beautiful.

"Edward? Is that seriously you?"

I smiled a little, the crooked smile that I rarely used anymore – it came so easily to me again. I knew I hadn't changed much since I had last seen her, so the question would only be a result of shock. She hadn't changed much either though, to be honest, she just looked…different. More confident, more self-assured. She was no longer the shy, quiet Bella that I would remember her as, but a journalist, with responsibility and…words escape my mind even now.

"Are you expecting another Edward?" I teased casually, finally controlling my shock reflex and sitting fluidly in the chair opposite hers. Her eyes didn't leave me the entire way.

"Masen?"

"My mother's name." I shrugged. "I didn't want to remain a Cullen." She nodded, understanding coloring her eyes. I smiled again. "It's been a while." She nodded again.

"Too long."

Her voice was like liquid to a dying man. I would sit here forever just to listen to her talk. I mentioned before that I was infatuated with Bella. I found that my feelings for her had not changed over the years, but maybe grown stronger. But surely she would have forgotten me. I mean, she probably was in a relationship by now. Without really making any conscious decision to, my eyes swept her fingers, searching for rings. None. I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"What have you been doing with yourself?" she asked, breaking me out of my reverie.

"Isn't that what you're meant to be interviewing me for?" I asked, teasing again. A light flush tainted her cheeks, and I looked at the familiar sight with fondness. I had missed her so much.

"What about you?" I asked, before she could make a remark.

She shrugged. "Went to university and college, and got a job here."

"Why Boston?"

"Why not?"

"Touché. So…why did you leave?"

She knew what I meant. "You distanced yourself from me, Edward, not the other way around." Her voice was harsh, but still beautiful.

"I know, and it was the biggest mistake of my life. I have never regretted anything more." And I meant it. I only realized now how much I had really missed Bella. She was like my second rock, as selfish and pathetic as that sounds. When Alice had betrayed me, I had turned away from everyone, yet had unwittingly leaned on Bella anyway. It was like there were two parts of my brain fighting for dominance, and though the part saying to stay cold, practical, distant seemed to be winning, my other side begging for human contact was silently continuing the battle. The needy side was making itself heard now, after five years of being ignored. I wished suddenly that I could erase everything that had happened in the past five years, but I knew I couldn't. I could try and make it up to her though, maybe.

She rolled her eyes. "Why did you choose music? I thought you wanted to become a doctor."

"Being put in a care home for insanity isn't very good on your resume," I said bitterly; it had been Esme's doing. She made sure that every hospital knew that I was 'unfit for practice'. "And besides, I take pride in what I do. I like knowing that listening to my music might be helping someone, somewhere, get through something hard." It was true; every song that I had written had been based on my own personal experiences, and though they told everything in a cold, harsh light, they also offered some encouragement and assurance that the strong could get through it.

She nodded a little, her head tilted to the side, making her hair fan out. "How's Emmett?" I asked, willing to break the silence.

She shrugged. "Last I heard, he and Rose were expecting a baby. She's five months along now, I think." Her brow furrowed as she tried to do the math in her head. She looked adorable. I nodded.

"And…Jasper?" She knew what I meant when I asked that.

"He's doing well. I heard he got a promotion, and they finally tied the knot about a year ago." I nodded absentmindedly.

"Good for them."

"Yes."

Pause.

"How are you doing then? What's new in your life?" I tilted my head to the side, curious and dying to know every detail of her life. I didn't want to have missed out on anything.

She shrugged. "I live a few blocks away, in a little apartment. I have a roommate – Tanya – and she's nice, but she's always bringing guys home, if you know what I mean. She's a waitress at a really shifty bar. I swear, one of these days she's going to wake up raped and murdered."

"What about you? And guys you bring home?"

Her eyes flashed and she smiled a little. I knew I was caught. Crap. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I want to know if I have to kick anyone's ass. I still care about you, Bella." So, so much. "And I want to make sure that you're happy and that you're being treated right." I was saying too much, giving too much away. But it's a bit awkward to say '_Hey, I know we haven't talked in five years, but I'm still madly in love with you._' Yeah, you can understand a little my predicament.

"Nah, no boyfriends. Tanya always tried to hook me up, but so far no one's been right."

"What about that guy you liked in high school?"

Her reaction surprised me; she blushed and looked down. "He…um…he sort of moved away and we…kind of grew apart. I haven't seen him in ages." I nodded a little. "And of course after that Mike kept coming onto me." I let out a little growl at the name and she laughed. It was like wind chimes, and I found myself smiling too. "So I went off to college, and he even tried to follow me! So I set him up with Jessica and I haven't heard from him since." She giggled.

"Evil mastermind," I said, impressed. She blushed again and I raised an eyebrow at the reaction. "At least I see that some things haven't changed." She smiled nervously and I leaned forward – not really comprehending my actions – and trailed my fingers along her cheekbone, feeling the warmth from her blush. It was heavenly. She blinked at me, shocked.

"Did you get over your…no touching rule?"

I nodded, smiling sheepishly. "Yes. My therapist gave me stuff to help me relax, and then started a course that gradually got me okay with the idea." She smiled, and I returned it. God, how I loved her smile.

"Well, I'm glad that you're better."

"A million times better."

There was another lull in the conversation, and then my brain caught up with my actions. I sat back, putting my hands on my knees and looking around the office – anywhere but her eyes, though that was where I longed to look most.

"So, since you're so interested in my love life, let's have the dirt on yours."

I shrugged, suddenly more uncomfortable. "Nothing really to tell." But I knew she wouldn't let up, so I continued. "I had a couple of girlfriends, but nothing really clicked, so I let them down in a very gentlemanly manner, or waited until they got tired of me, because I had a bit of a reputation and they only wanted to have me under their belts, so I let them."

She blinked. "So you were the school playboy? And I find it very hard to believe that anyone would get tired of you."

"Okay, so maybe I just had to keep breaking up with them, but it's not like they were that upset about it. I was just a conquest to them. I still am."

"You shouldn't let people treat you like that."

"It's nothing new." My voice turned bitter, and I looked down.

"But you deserve so much better."

"I'm just not getting emotionally involved until I find the right woman. No one gets hurt." Hearing myself say it, I realized how stupid and pathetic it sounded. I was miserable, and it was apparent. I just wanted someone to love and be loved by, and I loved Bella. No one could compare to her, really, but she didn't love me. She had gotten over me with high school, if she even loved me at all. I was happy for her.

"So when's Rosalie due?" I asked, desperate to change the subject. I think she saw through me, but it's hard to be sure with Bella.

"Sometime in September, I think."

I nodded. "Do you plan on going over when she goes into labor?" She nodded also. "Do you think…do you think you could call me also? I don't want to miss it."

"But…why?"

"Because…with seeing you here…now…I realize how much I've missed. I really regret shutting you out of my life Bella, really I do, and I know now that I was being stupid by shutting myself out of everyone else's too, whether I was wanted there or not. I know that if I go I probably won't be welcomed but…I miss them. I miss all of you." I looked down, unwilling to meet her eyes. She paused for an agonizingly long amount of time before she said;

"Of course."

"Really?" I looked up, honestly surprised.

"Of course, Edward. We've missed you too. Even Alice." I winced at the name. "She cried for days after you moved away. Nothing we could do would console her. She just kept muttering incoherently. We thought that we were going to have to institutionalize her."

Great Bella, pour salt on the wound.

"But she got better, and she moved on. But we all miss you Edward. The gang's not quite the same without you." She smiled, and I returned it halfheartedly. I didn't want her to see how much I was affected by knowing how much hurt I had caused. I didn't think that Alice was going to miss me much, if at all. It was surprising that she would even care, but she did. Once again, I felt guilt and regret overcome me with a vengeance. I had to leave. Now. I stood.

"It was really great to see you again, Bella. I hope we talk again. I have to go."

She smiled and offered to walk me out. I accepted eagerly.

Once we in the giant marbled lobby, I pulled her into a hug. Her figure fit into mine perfectly as her arms encircled me slowly and she buried her face in my chest. I rested my head on hers, inhaling the scent coming off of her like a drug. God how I had missed her. It was amazing how similar and yet utterly different she had become. I loved it all. I loved her.

"I'll see you around, Edward," she said with a smile when I finally allowed us to part. Already I felt the effects of withdrawal.

"Yes, Bella, I certainly hope so." She blushed, then turned and hurried away. I climbed into my Volvo, already aware that I had found myself yet another addiction.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I want to take this opportunity to thank all of my fabulous reviewers, and I'm sorry if this chapter is the worst of them all, because I think that it is. It was just a huge jump and everything, because I wanted to advance the story. Things are going to start looking up now, but Edward will screw up his happiness more than once, so I'm sorry if this story starts losing its draw, but I can't help that. Please don't lose faith in me!  
Please point out any mistakes I might have missed!  
Love you all! Review!

HigherMagic x


	6. Chapter 6

**Mommy Dearest**

**aka**

**Behind Closed Doors**

**Summary: **I can't believe that she can bear to do this to me, every single day. No relief comes, but I can't bring myself to end it. I need help.

**Elaboration: **Edward and Alice are brother and sister. Edward is the child that everyone loves to hate, and his sister is the only one that he will let himself trust. Bella and Emmett Swan, and Jasper and Rosalie Hale are the only friends he has, and the only reason he keeps on living. Classic abuse story and not much fluff. All human. Major Out Of Character Moments.

**Quote that I just had to put in; it was so fitting: **_When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness; that is a friend who cares._

* * *

**Chapter Six**

* * *

Why do people tell lies? This is a question I have asked myself – and others – countless times. I admit, everybody lies, it's simply a natural thing to do, however sinful. Lying covers up mistakes, brings about temporary happiness, and sometimes helps to settle an argument.

But it will always come back to bite you in the ass.

If no one else discovers your lie, then the guilt will most likely eat you alive. Of course, I am talking about the little white lies – those I condone, having told plenty myself – but the large ones. Pleading 'Not Guilty' in a trial; blaming someone else for a wrongdoing…things like that. I have told several great lies, but most of them have been lies of omission, and it is these kinds of lies that I would like to focus on.

Because lies of omission are the easiest to catch someone speaking. Finding out just one little piece of extra information can build someone's carefully constructed deception falling around their ears. And it can hurt those around them just as much.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

My phone went off at three in the morning. I hate it when people call at these times, for obvious reasons, but I think that it's worse when it's from a different time zone, because that means that they're awake and up at a decent hour while I'm dead to the world. I don't mind as much if the call is coming from the same hour as me, because it means that the caller is up as well, unlucky s.o.b.

"Hello?" I asked after putting the phone on speaker; too lazy and hung-over to move more than a few inches.

"Am I speaking to Mr Edward Cullen?"

"May I ask who's calling?"

"I am Jacob Black, sir."

"What can I do for you, Mr Black?"

"Well sir, I am calling about the deceased Esme and Carlisle Cullen, and was wondering if Mr Cullen would be willing to come over to Port Angeles to help settle the matters of the will."

I shot out of bed, shocked. What?! My parents were dead? I sat at the side of the bed, staring at the phone with the voice that had brought me the news. I was numb. Some would expect me to be sad, or perhaps happy, but I felt…nothing. It scared me. I had worked so hard to overcome my detachment to others, and now it suddenly returned to me as if I had always been this way. I abruptly remembered that I was still on the phone. I quickly assured Black that I would be there quickly, and hung up. All sleepiness had fled me with the news. My parents were…dead. They were dead. I willed myself to feel anything, anything at all, but nothing sprang to mind. It was like I had been severed from my body.

Without fully realizing what I was doing, I picked up the phone again, dialing a number that I hadn't tried to reach in…far too long. She picked up on the second ring. Her 'Hello?' sounded like she had been crying for hours. She had gotten the news, then. She sounded like she was trying desperately not to cry, and failing.

"Alice." My voice, and her name, made her stop immediately. I think she was frozen, but without her expression or voice, it was hard to tell. "Alice?" I asked again. Perhaps she had hung up on me. I wouldn't be surprised.

"Edward?" It sounded like all of her breath had come out in a huge whoosh, leaving her breathless. "Edward, is that really you?"

"I take it you got the call as well, then," I said, wanting to jump straight to the point. Talking with my sister like this was suddenly unbearably painful. The last time I had talked to my sister, I had accused her of betraying me and turning out just like Esme, and now, to be drawn to her again because of my very tormentor's death…it was so surreal.

"Yes." Her voice was tearing up again, making her sound like she had a lump in her throat. "I got called a few hours ago."

"How did it happen?"

"Car crash…drunk driving."

"Who?"

"Esme. Once you were put into the care home, she got even crazier than usual. She kept going out at night, coming back trashed and half-conscious. I was worried she would drink herself to death, but the car crash beat it to the punch. I don't know where they were going, but a firefighter found them on the highway. They were apparently barely recognizable."

"Okay Alice, stop before you burst into tears again." She had become increasingly distressed throughout telling me, and I felt bad for having to bring it up. "Are you going to go to Port Angeles?"

"Yes, as soon as I can. What about you?"

"Same. I guess I'll see you there Alice."

"Yes…and there's someone I think you should meet." She wounded unsure, like the news would upset me. I was forcefully reminded of that day in the hospital, when she had looked at me like I was some caged wild animal. The memory sent a shaft of pain through me, and I hung up after saying my goodbyes, unwilling to prolong the moment any longer. I quickly grabbed my laptop and searched for flights immediately.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

The flight was long, boring and uncomfortable. It was like God was trying to deliberately make my life miserable. Despite the fact that I was in First Class, I was still incredibly uncomfortable, but that was probably because the flight only gave me opportunity to be alone with my thoughts.

I picked up the rental with minimal problems; a silver Volvo – the same make and model as my own. Hey, old habits die hard. The only thing different was the license plate, the number of miles and the new car smell. Other than that, though, it was a perfect replica.

I sped from Seattle to Port Angeles, memories assaulting my mind as I drove past the forgotten scenery. The steadily growing amount of greenness was refreshing compared to Boston. I had very few good memories of Forks and Washington, but I couldn't help look at the place with fondness; this was my hometown, where I had been born and raised. It was home, no matter where I went to.

I pulled up outside the attorney's office and was surprised to see quite the assortment of cars; things that didn't belong to the usual clientele. There was a glossy red BMW that I recognized as Rosalie's immediately, as well as a black jaguar – I wanted to assume that that was Alice and Jasper's – and a slightly run-down looking midnight blue Chevy truck. Who did that belong to? No one I knew owned a Chevy…

I was suddenly filled with dread. What would the reunion be like? Would Jasper hate me for what I said to Alice? What would Alice think or say? She hadn't seemed that adverse to me, but that had been over the phone, what would she think of me now? I probably looked like crap – waking up at three from a late night of getting drunk didn't exactly put someone in the best of shape. The jetlag, coupled with that, was killing me. What about Rose and Emmett? Rosalie had never really liked me, but Emmett was fun to be around and I had been pretty close to him and Bella. Was Bella here? Was Emmett mad at me for leaving? I had no idea. Too many questions were buzzing around my head, stinging me like angry hornets again and again. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open into a small reception area. There were green chairs along the walls for people to sit and wait, and a piano played lightly in the background, loud enough to make itself known without imposing.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the five other occupants in the room, gathered in the corner and sitting on the green chairs there. They all looked up at me, each of their expressions mixing from sorrow to surprise at my arrival. I could understand every single hint of anger I saw at their eyes, but also the sadness. This was a sad occasion, and I couldn't bring myself to feel it.

I walked over and sat silently by Bella. I realized that she must own the Chevy. It was an improvement from her red monster that she had owned in high school. I smiled a little at the thought. That was what it had been nicknamed; the monster. That thing could have taken out a tank, and with Bella's clumsiness that was perhaps a good thing.

The other four met my gaze, and then looked down. I hadn't expected them to say anything, but the silence was making edgy. I shifted a little in my seat, looking away to survey the room. Nothing really eye-catching about it, but I suppose anything too upbeat would be a little bit out of place.

I felt a warm hand in mine, and looked up to see that Bella's hand squeeze mine gently. That little touch was enough to calm my nerves, and I smiled, easier this time.

Emmett noticed.

"Oh, so you touch people now, do you?" he snapped. I was sad that he was angry with me, but it was to be expected.

"Five years of therapy and separation do wonders for you," I muttered in reply. His face flushed angrily and the action reminded me of Charlie, when he was angry. Crap; I didn't want to make Emmett angry.

"Oh yeah? Well I'm glad that you're life is all peachy-creamy. Admit it, the only reason you're here is because of the will."

"That is exactly why I'm here." Emmett blinked, stopped in his rant by my blatant admission. "I wouldn't set foot in this place again, but to honor the dead. So here I am. Look, Emmett, I can't imagine what things were like before I left, but Bella told me that Alice was really upset. I regret what I said and did back then, I really do. I want to make it up to everyone, if they'll let me. You say my life is peachy-creamy? You have never been more wrong, my friend, because it's not true. To be honest, I think I regret running away in the first place!"

Everyone sat back, shocked. I was too. Why did I say that? Now they were going to ask me questions. I leaned my elbows on my knees, my head in my hands, controlling my raging emotions. I wasn't even sure what I was feeling; all I had was a swirling mass behind my eyes, twisting my mind in so many different directions. I stopped talking, thinking it was for the best.

Emmett opened his mouth to speak, but both Bella and Alice shot him looks. He shut up, but Alice gave me a 'this isn't over' look. I nodded, showing I understood. She relaxed, sitting back in her chair.

The man I assumed to be Jacob Black came in through the door just then – what superb timing the man had – and came over to stand in front of us. "Are we ready then?" he asked politely, his voice low and authoritative. Alice and I nodded and we stood up, following him into his office.

I shan't bore you will details; suffice it to say that Alice got the house and everything in it and a third of the money, I got the cars and another third, and the last third went to various charities. The whole process was exhausting, really. I was glad that I didn't get much in the way of physical trinkets; I didn't want any more than what was possible. The money was nice, I'll admit – I am human, after all – and so were the cars, as our family had quite a nice collection, so I was content. I would probably sell most of them anyway. When we came out of the office our friends were looking at us anxiously – well, me actually. Can't imagine why – but quickly relaxed at the slight smiles on our faces. Alice looked like she was going to tear up again, and I held her to me as she sobbed openly in the reception. Everyone gave us our privacy – going out to lunch – and Alice and I were left alone. I climbed into my Volvo, ready to get back to the airport, but she put her hand over mine as I reached for the door handle. I looked at her questioningly and she shook her head.

"I think we need to talk. I'm driving." I shrugged and handed her the keys, then got to the other side of the car and climbed in, closing the door seconds after her. The engine came to life with a purr and she slid out onto the highway slowly, carefully gathering speed as she set herself onto our destination.

The silence was tense and I longed to break it, but she wanted to talk so she could start. I looked out the window as we gradually came closer and closer to Forks…why was she taking me here?

Eventually, though, I couldn't take it any longer. "So who do you want me to meet?"

She hesitated before answering. Cutting the engine at the side of the road, she sat back with a great sigh, like the effort of telling me was too much effort. I watched her curiously. Finally she spoke;

"I don't know how much Bella told you about me and Jasper…" When I gave no reaction she continued. "Well, a few years ago we got a call from…an adoption agency. The woman there told us that they had found a biological match with a boy currently being housed in a Foster home. She said that, if we wanted, we could adopt him, because we had a genetic claim to him. I make him sound like a piece of property, don't I?" I made no comment; I was still trying for her to get to the point. "Well, we took him in – Jasper and I – and we raised him and…I think that you should at least meet him."

"But why?"

"Because he's your brother."

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

I had to admit, if I had any doubts about our genetic material, I had none now.

The boy was almost identical to me. His hair was lighter than mine and had traces of blonde in them, but we shared the same green eyes, pale skin, and general build. But what startled me most was his age. He was turning thirteen later that year.

We all sat in the old house's living room. I sat in Carlisle's black leather armchair, while Alice and the boy – I learned later that his name was Justin – sat together on the couch at an angle, Alice between me and him. I wasn't really sure how to react. By brother, did she mean half-brother? Because it would be hard to hide a child for thirteen years, yes? Besides, there was obvious bronze in his hair; Elizabeth. But she died when she gave birth to me…didn't she?

"Alice, do you mind explaining a few things to me?"

She smiled, a little wary. "You remember that business trip that Carlisle had to go on, that one Christmas?" I nodded. "Well, he was actually seeing your mother, and Justin's. When Elizabeth gave birth to you, Carlisle used his connections with Charlie to make her disappear, and she did, but he kept visiting her, and…Justin is your brother."

I couldn't believe that Carlisle was that sort of man. He hadn't seemed like the unfaithful, loose sort of guy. I was proof that he had a one-night-stand with a nurse at the hospital, but Justin was proof that this affair lasted at least nine years.

When I was nine…that's when the beatings started…had Esme known? Is that what had set her off? Did Carlisle have another child with my mother, then, when he wanted to take in another, Esme had finally snapped? I wouldn't be able to stand having two reminders of a spouse's infidelity in my house, and apparently neither could she. So she had started abusing me…and to keep my father silent? Did she threaten to expose his past? I couldn't imagine that that would have had much of an effect, but I am most definitely not my father. Did Carlisle need his reputation so much that he would be willing to let his son get tortured to near death? Every second that passed, my life became more like a soap opera.

"How long have you been caring for him?" I finally asked, aware that my silence had stretched long enough for Alice to become uncomfortable.

"About three months. I would have told you sooner, but…" I understood. She wasn't sure if I had forgiven her yet. Had I? Most likely. I saw now that, while I had called Alice the monster, claimed that she would be like Esme, I had turned out more like the monster than she. Alice had a job, she was married and she had a child, since she couldn't have one of her own due to the effects of the chemotherapy. So she had taken in her half-brother – the result of her unfaithful father and his mistress. While what was I? The alcoholic party animal that slept around and didn't connect with anyone. I had only just no begun to make things right between the only people that had stayed by my side until I had left to go to the Foster home, and now… My worst fears had been realized. Esme was gone, but her influence still lived on in me. To become one's tormentor…it was a terrible fate.

And I couldn't help but feel a small twinge of jealousy; Justin had no marks of cruelty on him, no scars that he would have to carry for the rest of his life. He lives with two very loving people, who can give him everything he needs, and are willing to do so. He had the life that I never did, yet it was because of me that he had it. I didn't know whether to be relieved at the fact that my brother could be happier than me, or envious of it.

"Alice told me about you," Justin said quietly, drawing my attention to him for the first real time. Alice surreptitiously rose and left the room. Justin slid to the nearest end of the couch, resting on the armrest, and chin on his folded arms. He tilted his head, studying me just as I was studying him. Eventually he smiled, and I was reminded painfully of Carlisle; the facial expressions were very similar. "You look like me."

"Hey, I was born first, so _you _look like _me_," I replied, gently teasing. He pouted briefly, blowing hair out of his eyes. We really did look very similar; it was a little hard to believe he was my brother and not my son or something.

"What was she like?" I asked. He knew who I was talking about.

He shrugged. "I don't remember much. She put me into foster care when I was three, but my folks were a redhead and a blonde with blue and brown eyes so it was kind of obvious I wasn't theirs." He rolled his eyes and I couldn't help but smile. "But I remember her hair. Like yours. Mine's got blonde in it, as you can see; yours in more like her color. And I remember her eyes too. She smiled a lot, and her laugh was really nice to listen to. She passed away due to being mugged by a couple guys in Port Angeles." He spoke so candidly about it; I was shocked. "But I suppose they got her before the drugs could. Dating a doctor means that you can get hooked up with the latest opiates. She was high half of her life, I bet. I'm just glad that she was clean while she had me; my life is screwed up enough, but I'm sure you know the feeling." I nodded emphatically; I knew it all too well. Is that what Esme had threatened Carlisle with? Supplying drugs? Again, the shocks just kept on coming with my family, didn't they? We could star on the Jerry Springer show.

"You don't talk much, do you?" It wasn't a question. I shrugged.

"Not unless the urge sways me. I wasn't exactly listened to very much, so eventually I learned not to talk. I have made some very good speeches of my day, though, and most of them I regret."

He nodded, green eyes continuing to study me. He was a decent kid, at least. I wondered what would happen now; would Alice continue to care for him? Was I obligated to? I couldn't handle a child. I would screw it up royally, I knew I would.

We talked about other things; school, living in New York and Boston, things like that. It was kind of refreshing, actually. To not have to worry about making a good first impression, to simply be able to be myself. Justin and I were very similar; into the same things and we had the same sort of way of thinking. Obviously he was not a raging alcoholic, and he had had a much brighter childhood than I, but I shall not linger on points like those.

When Alice returned from wherever she had been, I looked up at the clock to find that six hours had passed since she had left. Wow. Time flies.

She entered the room and stood next to Justin, taking his hand. "We're going to dinner; would you like to join us?"

I actually wanted to leave, badly, but everyone was going to be there, and if I wanted to start making amends, then it was now or never. I smiled and rose. "Sure." We all climbed into the Volvo and Alice drove to the restaurant; 'La Bella Italia'. It looked nice and I saw all of the others' cars parked outside. Entering the restaurant, we seated ourselves with the others around a large booth. Justin was sat on the very inside, then me, Alice and Jasper. Bella sat opposite me, Rose and Emmett next to her towards the end of the booth. I smiled at her and she returned it. I caught Emmett giving me a death glare and mouthed 'What?' at him. He shook his head and said nothing.

Emmett seemed to have really grown up since I last saw him. Perhaps it was the impending fatherhood which, looking at Rose's swollen belly, wasn't far away. Alice had told me that she was about five months along, but it looked more like seven or eight. But hey, don't listen to the doctor's son.

"Alright, what can I get you all?" asked the waitress. Her eyes roved over everyone at the table, but focused almost instantly on me. I looked down, pretending to be engrossed in my menu while everyone else ordered, but she continued watching me, only half-listening to them. It was beginning to make me uncomfortable. I was used to being scrutinized and ogled from afar by the more predatory females, but she…she was creepy. It freaked me out. I quickly spoke my order, and then sank back into the seat.

Emmett and Jasper both noticed my discomfort, but Emmett, being Emmett, spoke first. "Hey Eddie, what was with that? I thought you got over the whole 'closed off antisocial' thing."

"Being looked at like I'm tonight's special does not make me comfortable, Emmett," I answered through gritted teeth. He laughed at my expense.

"So? She was hot…you could have at least gotten her number."

"Rosalie, please hit him for me." My words were followed with a ringing slap on the back of Emmett's head. He cried out, rubbing the back of his head and she smirked. "Thanks."

"My pleasure."

"I'm going to get drinks," Jasper announced, getting up from the booth. "What are you guys drinking?"

"Get me an arrowhead," Emmett said. Sissy beer.

"Water," Rosalie said, Bella and Alice ordered the same thing. Justin ordered a coke. It was my turn.

"Anything for you, Edward?"

I desperately needed alcohol. "Um…a whiskey sour." Jasper frowned and looked at Alice. She watched me for a few moments – in which I refused to make eye contact – then nodded a little. Jasper went off to get drinks and I leaned my head back against the booth, sighing heavily. The lack of sleep was getting to me again. I should have ordered coffee. Sigh. Oh well, whiskey's just as good.

"Are you feeling alright, Edward?" Bella asked, reaching over the table to putting her hand on my side of the table, since she couldn't reach my arms. I smiled halfheartedly.

"Never better." She nodded and sat back, still looking at me with concern.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Alright, I'm starting school in a couple of days, and I'm getting ready, so updates will probably be every few days instead of every day, though I have to say I enjoyed writing a chapter every day. This has been fun, and I am going to start concentrating on Bella and Edward now. I have a couple of plans. I wasn't sure whether to make Justin old enough to be a rival to Bella, but I have other plans for him and a possible sequel because of it! Yay! So enjoy this chapter and please be nice. I have a feeling that the writing is suffering, because I was good at writing Edward in pain. You know why? Because I think the idea of Edward in pain is extremely hot. Now he's better – but still not great – and I think the story is suffering a bit. Let me know what you think though.  
You know the drill! Let me know of any mistakes I've missed!  
Love you all! Review!

HigherMagic x


	7. Chapter 7

**Mommy Dearest**

**aka**

**Behind Closed Doors**

**Summary: **I can't believe that she can bear to do this to me, every single day. No relief comes, but I can't bring myself to end it. I need help.

**Elaboration: **Edward and Alice are brother and sister. Edward is the child that everyone loves to hate, and his sister is the only one that he will let himself trust. Bella and Emmett Swan, and Jasper and Rosalie Hale are the only friends he has, and the only reason he keeps on living. Classic abuse story and not much fluff. All human. Major Out Of Character Moments.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

Once again, I find myself back on the subject of addiction. I would, however, not necessarily like to focus on the addictions themselves, but rather the problems that they can cause. And why people do them.

There is the addiction to alcohol, for instance. A few drinks can give one a light buzz, and makes everything right in the world. It can make one strong and undefeatable, and quick to reactions for any situation. A few more drinks, though, and one could end up on the side of the road, with a split skull from when you were thrown out of the window by the force of the head-on collision. Or it could drive people to other stupid things; like having unprotected sex, or starting on drugs – another addiction, I might add – and other stupid and dangerous things. It leads women to be lured into dark alleys, where they can be raped, mugged, and left for dead. It leads men to let themselves got into testosterone-fueled bouts that can lead to incarceration, hospitalization or death.

And yet people don't stop.

Then there is the reliance on drugs and opiates. Now, believe me when I say I know how awesome drugs can be; I would often steal doses of morphine from my father, when my pain was particularly unbearable. That stage of my life is over, but I can still remember the delicious feeling as the drugs spread through my system. I never gave myself more then necessary, but perhaps I did steal a little more often than really needed. But I refuse to hold myself responsible for my actions in my teens. Perhaps that is where my fault truly lies.

Then, of course, there are other things. Sexaholics. Kleptomaniacs. I consider myself neither, but I can understand the want for doing these things. Sex is a physical activity, which provides instant gratification that is completely one-sided. All I've ever had are one-night-stands, and in them I paid little to no attention to the needs of the women, though they weren't having too bad of a time themselves, from their screams. But, upon the quite-easily-reached orgasm, as well as the physical exertions of the activity, endorphins and dopamine will flood the brain, giving euphoria. Why wouldn't one seek it out as much as possible? It is akin to heroin. Kleptomaniacs, I imagine, get a rush or thrill from deliberately doing something that they know is wrong.

So they don't stop.

Another reason, I think, that people turn to things like alcohol and drugs and sex, is exactly the same reason I did too; they like having excuses.

For instance, I had a rough childhood. Understatement of the century, but it shall do for now. So I turned to drink, to numb the pain. Once the pain was numbed, it frightened me. I wanted to feel something; anything, so I turned to sex, and sometimes a cigarette or two. I never got hooked on the stuff, though. It repulsed me. Now that I feel like I need to have these things, I continue to do them, using my past as an excuse. And when I get reprimanded by people, I say that it's because of drink that I act that way. This is a circular path, and I find myself following it blindly, uncaring of where it shall lead.

I should stop. I really should. I'm glad of what happened; it gave me the conviction I needed to do so.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

The alarm that I had set on my phone blared loud and clear at seven thirty. I rolled over with a groan and pushed randomly at buttons until it stopped, then rolled back over to the position that I had been previously occupying. I felt something warm and, like an animal to light, I was drawn to it, wrapping my arms around the shape.

As consciousness gradually came to me, I paid more attention to it. It was too soft to be a pillow, and a few moments' thinking confirmed that there was, indeed, the different feel of clothes to that of skin. My hands explored a little, and the warm person shifted under me, moving closer.

I opened my eyes to look at the person sharing my bed. Her hair had moved over her face, hiding it, but I could see it was the colour of deep chocolate, hiding creamy, pale skin. The woman – thank God it was a woman, once I had woken up with a man. Nothing had happened, but it still freaked me out – was only wearing, from what I could see, one of my shirts.

Had I gotten lucky last night? Fun. Pity I couldn't remember, though. All I could recall was getting hammered last night, and Bella driving me home.

A sneaking suspicion crept up on me, and I looked back at the woman's hidden face. Had I…?

Cautiously, not wanting to wake her, I moved the hair to the side.

And wanted to crawl into a hole and die right then.

It was Bella.

I practically jumped out of the bed, staring at her in shock. Bella…in my bed…in my shirt…Holy Shit. She moved around a little, frowning slightly, probably at the absence of my body behind her, but rolled over and sighed, slipping back into dreamland. I could only stare at her. She was so…I didn't even know how to describe her.

I needed to leave. Now. In needed air.

Searching around the house, I pulled on the first pieces of clothing I found; jeans, t-shirt, and the ever present hoodie. I had lost most of the evidence now, but I felt the need to hide it still. I practically ran out of the house, into the elevator, before I started hyperventilating.

Had I slept with Bella?

The elevator took an infuriatingly long time to reach the ground level, but once it did I was out the door and into the bracing morning air. It was still cold, and the sun was just barely rising. I felt the effects of a full night's drinking catch up with me and groaned, mashing my fists into my throbbing temples. I had a pounding headache, which was to be expected.

I gradually found my way to a bench and sank down onto it gratefully. I had my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. With everything racing in my mind, the sound of a passing person or car was maddeningly loud and obnoxious. I wanted to press a 'mute' button or something.

I needed to think.

I needed coffee.

Ahh…coffee…The burning liquid was fabulous. It woke me up almost immediately, if only from the temperature. My head was clearing gradually, and I could string a coherent sentence together in my mind. I sat back on the same bench and sighed, letting the rising sun warm the air and greet the day. I used to hate seeing the sunrise, but now I reveled in it. I waited every day with eager anticipation for the dawn of a new light. It was refreshing.

But, today, it was like I had rewound five years, and was back in my old house; with the tormentor I called Mother living just a few doors down. I shivered, wanting to block out the memory. I swiftly turned to the question plaguing my mind.

Had what I think what happened last night actually happened? The evidence was sketchy at best. Had I been so out of it that I hadn't even bothered with undressing her? All of her clothes had been neatly folded on a chair, and I had been still half-dressed. I hadn't found any protection, used or otherwise, and this would be strange, because I always insisted on using them. I didn't want to catch or give something. But…why was she half-naked in my room?

There didn't seem any answers except the obvious one:

I had slept with Bella.

The woman I had adored since first meeting her.

The woman I was in love with.

The only woman I had ever been in love with.

That I had left.

And crushed my family.

And hadn't seen for five years.

…Fuck.

Emmett was going to kill me.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

I didn't know how long I sat there for, but eventually, my phone went off. I started at the unfamiliar ring tone…I hadn't heard it…years.

When I had first left Forks, living in a foster care home, I had deleted all the contacts in my phone, wanting a fresh start, and a clean break. I hadn't answered any of their calls, texts or emails either, until they finally got the message and stopped calling. Each deleted item had sent shafts of pain through me, but I knew it would be better that way; a fresh start.

But I couldn't delete hers.

And that was _her _ring tone.

Warily, I flipped open the phone. The word 'Bella' blared at me accusingly. Should I answer? I sighed, and pressed 'hang up'.

I couldn't speak to her right now.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

When I returned home, I wished with all of my heart that she would not be there. I didn't see her car outside, but that of course meant nothing. We could have driven home in my car. I honestly had no idea. I took several deep, level breaths in the elevator, trying to keep my cool in case she was still there. My hands kept running through my hair; a nervous gesture. I knocked tentatively on the door, before unlocking it and opening the door to my apartment. The pile of her clothes that had previously occupied the chair was gone, much to my relief, and I saw no purse or other thing that could belong to hers. There was music playing, from my radio which was set to go off ten minutes after my phone, in case I didn't wake up. That must have been what roused Bella.

Roused. Damn it.

I decided that I needed to know what happened. Damn my nervousness, and damn the lies. I just wanted to know, so that I could move on with it. I turned, grabbing my coat to head to her place, which I hoped was where she was heading, before I heard a soft voice call from behind me.

"Leaving again already?"

I whirled around. Bella was there, wet hair clinging to her neck and shoulders from a recent shower, and her clothes from last night molded to fit her, because of the dampness. I'm surprised my jaw didn't hit the floor, but she blushed when it was evident I was obviously staring at her like some lusty idiot. I couldn't help it though…she was positively radiant. If I had indeed been with her last night, I would kill myself for not being able to remember it. The first time with Bella…

I remembered that I had a question to answer.

"I'm sorry, Bella," I mumbled, all carefully constructed speeches flying out the window. "It was rude of me to leave."

She giggled, laughing at my embarrassment. "Edward, what has you so uncomfortable?"

Now or never. I blurted out the question before I could justify not asking it. "What exactly happened last night?"

The blush was back on her face, and my mind went blank. Oh Shit, Oh Shit, Oh shit. I sank down slowly to the single step that came before the main room in the apartment, and placed my head in my hands again, swearing to myself in my head.

"Oh God, oh God, Emmett's going to kill me."

Bella rushed over to sit next to me. She took my wrists in her small hands and made me look at her. I didn't want to, but since when could I ever refuse her? Exactly. How pathetic was I? I was whipped before I had actually dated the woman. Sigh.

"Relax, Edward, breathe."

Breathe? How could I fucking breathe? "How am I meant to do that, Bella? We fucking had sex last night. Don't lie to me! I saw you. Oh dear God, I'm going to Hell. Right after Emmett – and possibly Jasper – kills me. Maybe I should add Alice too. And Rosalie, just because she hates my guts and wants to kill me anyway. Let's get the whole fucking gang here and have an Edward piñata day!" Okay, so I was rambling, but I was so freaking out here.

"Edward, calm down! Nothing happened last night."

What?!

"What?!"

She blushed again. "Well, I drove you home in the Volvo, because you were almost passed out." Her voice filled with motherly affection, something that I had not ever heard before. "And when I dropped you off, safe and sound in your bed…you…asked me to stay with you. Not in a sexual way! You just wanted me to sleep here. So I did."

"What about your clothes?"

"Well…I mentioned that, and you simply offered to lend me one of your shirts. You were half-asleep by then, poor thing." Her hand was rubbing soothing circles on my back, and I was calmed. Thank the Lord…nothing had happened. And yet, I couldn't help but be wistful. My relationship with Bella was still at a halt. I needed something to get reacquainted with her; five years had changed her so much, and all for the better.

"Spend the day with me today," I said, looking at her.

"What?"

"I don't know." I shrugged, acting nonchalant. "But it's been a while since we really spoke to each other, and I regret that. I want to be able to hopefully make amends, Bella. Please let me have that chance." I was cheating, really, playing on guilt, but I desperately needed her company now. "Unless you have to work," I added.

"No...It's cool. I'm off today." She smiled, and my heart leapt. "I just want to go to my place to change. Drive me there?"

"Who took your car?"

"Alice drove it to my apartment."

I nodded. I opened the door for her once we got to the car, and she smiled and rolled her eyes. Hey, if she was going to stay around me, she had to get used to being treated like a lady.

The car purred to life, and we were off.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Alright, so this chapter is shorter than the others, but at least it's there, right? Did anyone else laugh at Edward's distress? I did. Oh well. Please let me know of any mistakes. And I know that in the last chapter, Edward was in Forks, and now he's in Boston. He passed out for the plane ride. Let's leave it at that, because I didn't realize the error until it was already finished, and I am so not rewriting it. I'm lazy that way.

Love you all! Review!

HigherMagic x


	8. Chapter 8

**Mommy Dearest**

**aka**

**Behind Closed Doors**

**Summary: **I can't believe that she can bear to do this to me, every single day. No relief comes, but I can't bring myself to end it. I need help.

**Elaboration: **Edward and Alice are brother and sister. Edward is the child that everyone loves to hate, and his sister is the only one that he will let himself trust. Bella and Emmett Swan, and Jasper and Rosalie Hale are the only friends he has, and the only reason he keeps on living. Classic abuse story and not much fluff. All human. Major Out Of Character Moments.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

**mas·och·ism**

–_noun _

**1.** Psychiatry. The condition in which sexual gratification depends on suffering, physical pain, and humiliation.

**2.** Gratification gained from pain, deprivation, degradation, etc., inflicted or imposed on oneself, either as a result of one's own actions or the actions of others, esp. the tendency to seek this form of gratification.

**3.** The act of turning one's destructive tendencies inward or upon oneself.

**4.** The tendency to find pleasure in self-denial, submissiveness, etc.

**mas·och·ist,** _noun _

**mas·och·is·tic,** _adjective_

**mas·och·is·ti·cal·ly,** _adverb_

**1. **The deriving of sexual gratification, or the tendency to derive sexual gratification, from being physically or emotionally abused.

**2.** The deriving of pleasure, or the tendency to derive pleasure, from being humiliated or mistreated, either by another or by oneself.

**3.** A willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences.

**mas·och·ist**

**1.** Someone who obtains pleasure from receiving punishment

* * *

**sa·dism**  
_-noun_

**1.** The deriving of sexual gratification or the tendency to derive sexual gratification from inflicting pain or emotional abuse on others.

**2.** The deriving of pleasure, or the tendency to derive pleasure, from cruelty.

**3.** Extreme cruelty.

* * *

From the sadist was born the masochist, and from the masochist will come…what?

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

I spent the whole day with Bella. We talked, walked around Boston, stopped for lunch, and for breakfast. We caught up on everything that had happened in our lives since the last time we had really seen each other, five years ago. Saying that I was completely relaxed around her would be, quite honestly, a lie. I was never more nervous in my life. That morning's event didn't help the uneasiness I felt.

I kept picturing her, in nothing but my shirt. I'm only human. Every time I did, I would flush and stutter, if I was speaking. It was so humiliating. I wanted to tell her how I felt so badly, but I couldn't.

I wouldn't do that to her.

Masochist.

In a desperate attempt to distract myself, I forced myself to ask about the one subject I never wanted to visit again.

"So…what was it like after I left?"

Bella shrugged, her fingers pausing from where they were twisting a lock of hair over and over. She bit her lip, a habit that I remembered from our time as high school students. I knew from this that she was about to tell me the truth, but not the whole truth.

"Well…Alice was upset, as you can imagine. I don't know what happened in that hospital room, Edward, but whatever you said must have struck home, because she wouldn't come out of her room for weeks. All I would ever hear was crying. Jasper was distraught. He couldn't think of anything that could help her. Rosalie, as you so cleverly mention earlier, didn't much like you anyway, so she pretty much used her hatred and the situation to fuel the 'hate Edward' flame." I had to smile a little at the reference to my 'piñata' rant earlier, but I frowned again soon after. Rosalie and I hadn't gotten along, simply because she didn't understand, and she thought that I was a freak, so we hadn't been close. I didn't know that she hated me. Maybe she viewed me as I once viewed myself; someone holding everyone else back.

A liability.

"What about you and Emmett?" I asked, not wanting to dwell on that part any longer than necessary.

She bit her lip again. Ah, now she was going to edit.

"Well…you know how Emmett is protective of Alice as a little sister…he was upset that you leaving had upset her. At first he was angry, which I think was mostly Rosalie's doing…but then he was sad, because he realized just how much a part of the gang you played." She smiled a little. "I mean, you were always there. You were that person who was always withdrawn, always afraid to get into the center of things, but…you were always there when I needed you, or when Alice did. You helped others, despite your own problems. I missed you when you left."

She looked away, and I thought I saw a faint shining in her eyes. Oh crap, had I made her cry? Damn it. Even when I was trying to make it up to her, I upset her more.

"Come here," I told her. She didn't move, so I pulled my chair over next to hers and hugged her. I just hugged her. I didn't trust myself with anything more. She rested her head on my shoulder, and I sat silently while she tried not to cry. Was this because of the subject of what is, or what was? Had she reacted like Alice when I left? For some reason, the thought made me smile internally. She missed me.

Sadist.

She finally got control of her dry sobbing about ten minutes later. I hugged her tighter, before letting go, holding her face in my hands.

"Are you alright?" I asked, concerned. I watched her closely while she answered. I wasn't taking lies from her.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry." She smiled, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. She wiped her eyes hurriedly, and her voice was thick with unshed tears, but she wasn't lying. She was sorry.

"I'm sorry about what I've done. I'm sorry that I left, and that I didn't at least try to keep contact with you, or anyone. I really, really am. There are no possible words I could say, or deeds I could do, that would make it up to you, that could restore, or even improve the relationship I shared with everyone I had before I left. But, if you'll let me, Bella, I'd like to try. I want things to be better."

Not the same, but better.

I love you, Isabella Swan.

I always have.

Why is it so damn difficult to say it out loud?

Her eyes were tearing up again, and I hugged her once more. This time, she returned the gesture. She held me tightly, as if she was afraid to let go. I like to think that she didn't want to let go, just then.

"I'm not going anywhere," I whispered to her, and from the small sound she made, that was the right thing to say. I knew that she would probably be afraid that I would disappear again, but that was impossible now. She was my new addiction. I needed her, like I needed air.

My brand of heroin.

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

"So you finally got that journalism job you wanted?"

"Better," she replied, flipping her hair in the cliché teenage fashion. I had to laugh at that. "I started as the coffee girl, and now I'm one of the top investigative journalists in the country."

"Ooh, fancy," I teased lightly. She elbowed me in my side, and I laughed again. I had laughed and smiled more in the last five hours with her than in the past five years.

Wow. How sad a statistic is that?

"What about you? Is the musician's life as crazy as it seems to be?"

"I seem to have gotten lucky, in that I am good enough to be recognized, but not famous enough to have acquired my own stalker and paparazzi group."

"I would totally stalk you, if I had time."

"If you were my stalker, I would welcome you in."

She giggled, blushing. How true that statement was, though. If she thought me important enough to follow around, I would fall at the ground and worship the ground she walked on. I kind of already did that, but then I would make it public.

What a strange relationship that would be.

I stopped my car outside her apartment building; parking it then turning to face her. The atmosphere gained the kind of tension that happens when people realize that they have to go, but don't really want to.

At least, that's what I tell myself.

She smiled. "Thanks for today."

"It was all my pleasure. Thanks for staying over last night. I'm sure, despite my shock, that waking up next to you would be infinite times better than waking up alone."

She smiled again, after blushing. She was so cute when she blushed.

"Well…I guess I'll see you around."

"I'm counting on it." She opened the door, shivering and pulling her coat around her. I had kept her out late; it was a little after ten and I knew she got up early for work tomorrow. I felt bad, but it was fleeting, because my selfish side reveled in having that much time spent with Bella.

Hell, if it were up to me, neither of us would have a job.

We'd just stay home all day.

Not necessarily doing anything.

Just being together.

If only.

"Goodnight Edward," she said, leaning down to speak through the open car door. I smiled.

"Sleep well, Bella."

**-m-o-m-m-y—d-e-a-r-e-s-t-**

It was one in the morning when the phone rang.

I was still awake, because the odd sensation of being happy all day had left my body immersed in endorphins, and I couldn't get to sleep.

Not that I was complaining.

I was glad that I could think clearly when she rang.

"Edward?" She sounded like she had been crying. I was immediately on high alert.

"Bella? What is it? What's wrong?" Millions of scenarios that could have happened flashed through my mind with dizzying speed and intensity. I held my head in my hands, while listening to her on the other side.

"Well…Tanya came home about half an hour ago with some guy she picked up at the bar." Tanya? Oh, her roommate. Right. "And well…it went really silent about five minutes ago, and he hasn't left. And…I'm a little afraid. I think he did something to her."

"Alright Bella, calm down." She sounded like she was working herself into hysterics. "Where are you in your apartment?"

"My room. First door on the right."

"Where's Tanya's room?"

"Last on the left."

"Okay. Is your door locked?"

"Yes."

"Stay there. I'm coming over alright? Don't panic, and don't open the door unless you hear me, okay? I'll be right over."

"Okay Edward."

"See you in a minute." I tried to make my voice light, to try and help her maintain calm, but I knew it wouldn't work. Jasper was better at the whole 'calm people down' thing. I was usually the one having a breakdown. I had only really seen Jasper angry once, and that was when he had seed the chains in my wrists.

I was vicious with the Volvo in my rush to get to Bella's apartments. I contemplated dialing the police, but I discarded it. I didn't know if the nameless one night stand had actually done anything wrong, and I could get in trouble for wasting police time. Besides, I wasn't too fond of federal agents.

So I would wait, for now.

I skidded to a stop and rushed out of the car, into the flats. I ran up the stairs to the sixth floor – her floor. I ran as quietly as I could to her door, and then quickly realized a fundamental flaw in the plan. No key.

I pulled out my phone, thanking the Gods that I hadn't deleted Bella's number when I deleted everyone else's. Perhaps she had a spare key hidden outside.

"Yes?"

"I can't get in without a key."

"There's a spare one underneath the fire extinguisher at the end of the hall."

"Okay." I hung up, retrieving the key, and quietly opened the door.

The flat layout was similar to mine. Opening the door, there was a long corridor to the right that I presumed held the bedrooms, and then a main room at this end that acted as a kitchen, dining room and living room. It was spacious and clean. It had Bella written all over it. I smiled a moment, before remembering my mission.

I knocked silently on Bella's door, calling her name. I heard her getting up and walking slowly to the door. She opened it an inch, before seeing me and opening it further. I smiled reassuringly to her, but her eyes were drawn to the slightly closed door at the end.

"Pack some clothes. You're staying over again tonight."

"But Tanya -."

"I'll go check on her. You do as I say and wait by the door, alright? And for heaven's sake be quiet."

She nodded, and the door closed. I crept down the corridor, staying to the shadows. The TV was on in the room; I could see the flickering images through the crack in the door. A strong smell of rust and salt hit my nose, and I almost hurled. Blood. I inched towards the door, peering through.

I saw the bed, tangled with someone who, to an unobservant person, could just be sleeping. But I smelled the blood. And I saw it, finally. There it was, in a huge puddle on the floor, and staining the blue sheets. I shifted, and saw a man, staring at the TV. His clothes were spattered with the pattern consistent to wild slashing. He was flipping a blade in his hand, staring blankly at the soundless images on the screen.

Police.

Alright, police.

But first thing's first.

Get Bella out safely.

I hurried down the corridor, pulling Bella out, who was standing by the door. I guess from the look on my face, she could see what had happened, for she didn't way anything, but she looked sick, and her skin was really white. Out in the corridor, I looked around frantically for something that would block the door. Anything.

I couldn't let him get away.

What happened to Bella's roommate could just as easily have happened to Bella.

I felt sick.

I had been so close to losing her.

I quickly pulled out my phone, dialing the police.

"Hello, Boston Police Force."

"Hello, I'm calling about a murder."

"Alright, son. What's the address?"

I gave it to him, along with other details. He asked me to stay where I was, but I knew that that wouldn't happen. I needed to get Bella out of here as soon as possible. I wouldn't have her within states of that man.

Hanging up, I led Bella out to the Volvo. She kept asking me questions, but I shook my head. I wouldn't answer now. I couldn't talk right now, hardly.

I drove her home as quickly as I could. I could hear sirens wailing as police sped off towards the apartment. I knew that they would probably suspect Bella, and me, and that us fleeing wouldn't help our case, but unless the guy escaped, they would have pretty damning evidence.

I didn't even look at Bella until she was safe and sound inside my apartment. There were no crazy murderers here.

Well, no murderers at least. I don't know about the mentally stable bit.

I sat her down on the couch, kneeling in front of her. I put my hands on my shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

"Bella." I made her name a sentence, making her see the seriousness I was trying to communicate to her. "Are you alright?"

She nodded slowly. She was still white, and she felt cold. She was going into shock. I grabbed some blankets and wrapped them around her, and she started shivering almost as soon as I gave them to her. She curled into a ball onto the couch, staring blankly ahead. She was silent for a while.

"She's dead, isn't she?"

"Yes." There was no point pussyfooting about it.

Bella nodded, and then sighed. I started pacing. I felt restless, edgy. She was here, she was safe. She wasn't in danger anymore. Then why couldn't I relax?

"Edward, are you alright?"

I looked at her. She had turned towards me, her brown eyes wide and concerned as they focused on me. I almost laughed. I ran my fingers through my hair, and then clenched them when I realized that they were shaking too.

What to tell her? Lie or truth?

The truth. Always the truth.

"No, Bella, I'm not okay. You have no idea how close you could have come to dying tonight. I knew that this sort of thing would happen. You don't have a roommate like that without risk of getting raped or murdered in the night! He could have done all sorts of things to you, Bella, and you would have been alive for all of it. We have no idea what that poor girl suffered before he finally ended her misery." Memories were flooding back to me with my own rant. Chains tightening…Pain…Blood and tears mixing to sting the wounds more. Physical pain. Emotional pain. Things that I had tried to suppress for years came back in a flood. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to feel, how to think. "He could have…"

_He could have done to you what happened to me._

I sat down. The shaking was making my knees weak, and I felt like I could no longer stand. Bella sat up, coming to sit beside me. She wrapped a blanket covered arm around me, enfolding me in the shared warmth of her and the fabric. It was comforting. I forced myself to calm down. Hysterics would not help the situation. How stupid was it that Bella goes through the trauma, but I get the side effects?

But I would take the pain, the fear, the agony. Every time.

"Bella…are you sure you're alright? Did he do anything to you?"

"I didn't even see the guy, Edward. I'm fine." She hugged me, our positions switched from earlier that day, when she had looked to me for comfort. I held her close to me, wishing that we could just…stay this way.

I saw her eyelids droop, and I felt exhaustion creep up on me as well. The fear and adrenaline had gone, and now I was just…tired. I wanted to sleep. I got to my feet, pulling her up as well, and led us both to my bed. I wasn't about to let her out of my sight.

She didn't protest, and I wrapped my arms around her as we settled down to sleep.

I wasn't sure if I was still conscious when I heard it, but I wanted to think that I wasn't just dreaming.

Besides, she talks in her sleep anyway, who's to say it wasn't real?

But just as I was drifting, I heard the four most beautiful words in the word.

"_I love you, Edward._"

* * *

**Author's Note: **Alright, so I finally made their feelings known. Please let me know exactly what you're thinking of my writing. Your criticisms are the only things that can help me achieve the same standard throughout the fanfic.

Love you all! Review!

HigherMagic x


	9. Chapter 9

**Mommy Dearest**

**aka**

**Behind Closed Doors**

**Summary: **I can't believe that she can bear to do this to me, every single day. No relief comes, but I can't bring myself to end it. I need help.

**Elaboration: **Edward and Alice are brother and sister. Edward is the child that everyone loves to hate, and his sister is the only one that he will let himself trust. Bella and Emmett Swan, and Jasper and Rosalie Hale are the only friends he has, and the only reason he keeps on living. Classic abuse story and not much fluff. All human. Major Out Of Character Moments.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

**Epilogue**

* * *

**Trust  
****–noun **

**1. **reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence.

**2. **confident expectation of something; hope.

**3. **confidence in the certainty of future payment for property or goods received; credit: _to sell merchandise on trust. _

**4. **a person on whom or thing on which one relies: _God is my trust. _

**5. **the condition of one to whom something has been entrusted.

**6. **the obligation or responsibility imposed on a person in whom confidence or authority is placed: _a position of trust. _

**7. **charge, custody, or care: _to leave valuables in someone's trust. _

**8. **something committed or entrusted to one's care for use or safekeeping, as an office, duty, or the like; responsibility; charge.

Trust is an amazing thing. When built properly, it is like the strongest house, yet as easily as one made of straw, it can be blown away in seconds. Trust is something that can take years to build, or only seconds, and each new development is unlike the last; unique in a subtle way. Trust is not a possession as such; you cannot sell it, buy it, and handle it. But as with all possessions, it can be coveted.

**Hope**  
**–noun **

**1. **the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best: _to give up hope. _

**2. **a particular instance of this feeling: _the hope of winning. _

**3. **grounds for this feeling in a particular instance: _There is little or no hope of his recovery. _

**4. **a person or thing in which expectations are centered: _The medicine was her last hope. _

**5. **something that is hoped for: _Her forgiveness is my constant hope. _

**6. **to look forward to with desire and reasonable confidence.

**7. **to believe, desire, or trust: _I hope that my work will be satisfactory. _

**8. **to feel that something desired may happen: _We hope for an early spring. _

**9. **_Archaic_. to place trust; rely (usually fol. by _in_).

**10. ****hope against hope, **to continue to hope, although the outlook does not warrant it.

Hope. What a complex and confusing emotion. It is much like a seed, which falls into the driest desert, burying itself deep within the sandy dunes. Many would think it dead and yet, with winter rain, it finds nourishment, and it grows to become one of many plants, to sustain others. Hope can, in the right hands, lead an army; stir feelings in an individual no one thought was possible to possess. Hope was the only recompense for the opening of Pandora's Box. Hope and my next word; Love.

**Love  
****–noun **

**1. **a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.

**2. **a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.

**3. **sexual passion or desire.

**4. **a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.

**5. **(used in direct address as a term of endearment, affection, or the like): _Would you like to see a movie, love? _

**6. **a love affair; an intensely amorous incident; amour.

**7. **sexual intercourse; copulation.

**8. **(_initial capital letter_) a personification of sexual affection, as Eros or Cupid.

**9. **affectionate concern for the well-being of others: _the love of one's neighbor. _

**10. **strong predilection, enthusiasm, or liking for anything: _her love of books. _

**11. **the object or thing so liked: _The theater was her great love. _

**12. **the benevolent affection of God for His creatures, or the reverent affection due from them to God.

**13. **_Chiefly Tennis_. a score of zero; nothing.

**14. **a word formerly used in communications to represent the letter _L._

**15. **to have love or affection for: _All her pupils love her. _

**16. **to have a profoundly tender, passionate affection for (another person).

**17. **to have a strong liking for; take great pleasure in: _to love music. _

**18. **to need or require; benefit greatly from: _Plants love sunlight. _

**19. **to embrace and kiss (someone), as a lover.

**20. **to have sexual intercourse with.

**21. **to have love or affection for another person; be in love.

**22. ****love up, **to hug and cuddle: _She loves him up every chance she gets. _

**23. ****for love, **

**a. **out of affection or liking; for pleasure.  
**b. **without compensation; gratuitously: _He took care of the poor for love. _

**24. ****for the love of, **in consideration of; for the sake of: _For the love of mercy, stop that noise. _

**25. ****in love, **infused with or feeling deep affection or passion: _a youth always in love. _

**26. ****in love with, **feeling deep affection or passion for (a person, idea, occupation, etc.); enamored of: _in love with the girl next door; in love with one's work. _

And here we have Love. The final of my three, this time. Love is powerful, none can deny it, but it is also very, very difficult to find. Some settle for physical lust, others for a half-met relationship. Others still are lucky enough to have the floating, the happiness, the everything-is-perfect fazes.

And yet, none of these people will have experiences true love. Love that sets your heart pumping miles a minute, and the complete connection with someone on every stage, every level of their being. Few will ever be able to feel that complete soul-bearing experience to the full. And for that, I pity you.

Humanity is suffering, this I know. How shameful a race can we be if we degrade these words, these fantastic, emotive words...Put them into cold, clinical definitions, devoid of life or passion? How does a race seek to better itself, and learn compassion and understanding, when it doesn't allow itself to feel more than words? Without the true meanings of the words, they hold no sway over other kinds.

* * *

After the incident with Tanya, Bella stayed at my place. For a long while. Long enough of a time to realize that she and I were, in no less words, perfect for each other and made for each other. I was shocked when she confessed that she had feelings for me too; how this perfect and beautiful creature could love me I'll never know – but she did, and I was content for now, to say the least.

We got married a few years after, when I had courage enough to stutter out the few words that would make her mine forever. It was more of a blushing groom situation, but I was happy, and Bella was happy, despite her teenage aversion to marriage.

And then…then God gave me Renesmee, my daughter. Bella's pregnancy with her had been difficult, so Justin had come to live with us. He was majoring in biological science, so he knew more about this sort of thing than I did and, though I was not happy about it, I was forced to wait on the sidelines for Bella to suffer through something I would die to be able to take away from her.

To say that I was scared of becoming a parent would be the understatement of this still very young century. I was absolutely terrified. So many questions that I would suffer silently with, and yet couldn't talk to anyone about. I refused to talk about them even to Alice, for the sting of betrayal was still enough for me to keep my defenses up around her.

But, when I first saw my daughter, all the worries melted away. It was like I had been injected with a serum that had melted all my fears, anxieties, and general concern. Renesmee was beautiful. Throughout her childhood, I was the doting father, unable to resist his daughter's machinations and her crooked smile, a copy of mine. She had Bella's eyes, though, and my hair color. She was the perfect combination of me and my wife.

* * *

_The man, worn by grief and age, was still on his bed, the soft beeping being the only sign of dim life, if consequence of a tragic accident that had killed his wife too. How different the lives of the parents and child, and yet their fate was unraveled, their lives taken in the same way._

_His daughter, the sole survivor of the crash that had taken five lives, stared blankly at the glass wall that separated her from her father, her brown eyes filling with tears, which she tried to blink away, but couldn't. Fate was cruel, it was true, to lose both of her parents in the same day!_

"_Come on, Nessie, we should go in before they take him off of the breathing machine; it's the only reason he's being kept alive now." And there was oh-so-sensitive Uncle Justin. She hated the man, hated his attitude and casual view to the whole affair. Her parents were freaking dead! And it was her fault, and he was just making it worse._

_But instead of the verbal spew she wished, all that came out was a shaky 'Okay' and a nod._

_The doors slid open at her approach, and she walked in, followed by Justin. She made her way slowly to the side of the bed, reaching out with a shaking hand to stroke her father's messy hair from his head. With that, all the tears she had been trying to keep back spilled forth, falling over her cheeks in salty rivulets._

"_I'm so sorry…" she managed to whisper through dry sobs._

'_**Don't be,' **__he wanted to reply to her. __**'I love you, Angel.'**_

"_I love you Daddy," she said, as if in answer, though she couldn't hear what he was thinking. She forced herself away from the bed, dragging her feet on the way to the door, and nodded dumbly at a nurse, who scurried in to turn off the machine. It wasn't until a moment after that the heart monitor went dead._

_Renesmee's sobs burst through, and she clung to the man she loathed, soaking Justin's shirt with her tears. The man hugged her awkwardly, looking at the dead man who could pass for his twin, a small smirk plastered to his face._

'_**You dare hurt her, and I'll rip you limb from limb, I swear, even if I must rise from the dead,' **__Edward promised, as he alone was the sole witness to the scene. He growled inwardly, even as the scene faded and disappeared, and he was taken upward. He thought this was odd, since he wouldn't have expected anything really, after death, but he felt everything. He felt every being on the Earth; its thoughts, its actions, its feelings…every thought and emotion slammed into his with force, and he gasped, though he felt no need to breathe now. But he struggled, struggled against the pulling. He didn't want to leave this world; he wanted to go back to his daughter, to comfort her and protect her from the force of his brother, from what his intentions were._

"You can't fight for her forever," _a kind voice said, echoing in the recesses of his brain. _"She must learn to fight her own battles."

"_**Would you have me here passively while I watch that monster under the same roof as her?"**__ Edward shouted back, angered by the benevolent voice._

"Whether you wait or not is up to you, Edward. Either way, she will be fine."

_Edward growled, still angry at the supposed passiveness of the voice, but the clouds swallowed him, and he lost sight of the hospital he had supposedly died in. It was strange, for he still felt all on the Earth. Experiencing as he did, he felt as though he had been in a sensory deprivation chamber, only to have been given all but his sight back. Needless to say, it was an odd sensation, and entirely uncomfortable. He wanted to see his daughter, to make sure she was okay._

"_She's going to be fine, Edward, you'll see," said a familiar voice from behind him, and he turned to see his sister, Alice, sitting in the shade of an oak, on a park bench._

_He walked over, seating himself beside her. "And why would you know this?" he asked through clenched teeth._

"_I have figured out many things while I have been here." Alice had died three years ago, due to a complication in the pregnancy. Unfortunately, they hadn't been able to save the child either, but Edward saw no one near Alice. Did still-borns not go to Heaven? Was this even Heaven, where they were? "No Edward, this isn't Heaven. This place is for people who are waiting to stay. I, for instance, shall wait here until Jasper comes."_

_A thought occurred to him then. "Where's Bella?"_

_Alice smiled knowingly. "She's a little way down the road. She came here a little while before you, and she went in search for you. Nothing I could say could stop her. You had better hurry."_

_Edward was about to set off, when Alice's voice stopped him again. "Edward. If Bella is here, then who are you waiting for?"_

"_Do you not know?"_

"_I see nothing up here, expect the dead coming and going, waiting and leaving with their loved ones. Who should I be seeing?"_

"_My daughter."_

"_For her sake, then, I hope you have to wait here for a very long time."_

I don't want to be here, _he thought_. I want to be where I can help her, or guide her.

_Edward soon caught sight of his beloved, Bella, sitting near the path, in a small clearing, much like the one they had known at Forks. He smiled and sat down to join her. She mimicked his smile, tilting her head to the side._

"_So, you made it here too?"_

_He nodded, and she sighed._

"_Our poor daughter."_

_Phantom tears ghosted down Bella's cheeks, and she wiped them away._

"_We left her with that monster."_

"_I know," Edward answered. "But I swear to you, Bella, that I shall wait here for her, and I shall do everything in my power to stop him."_

"_What can you do?" she asked bitterly. "Rise from the dead?"_

"_No, but I shall think of something. No harm will come to our daughter, if I can help it."_

_They fell silent, quieted by his declaration. For a while, nothing stirred, not even the fake breeze with the fake trees, all an unnatural shade of white or grey._

"_Edward?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Is that a promise?"_

_He smiled, tilting her head so that he could kiss her with all of his love and adoration, melting her into his arms._

"_I swear it."_

_Until their daughter was safe again._

_Forever._

* * *

**Author's Note: **Alright, well, I backed down. I'm sorry, but I had to end this before I ended up slitting my wrists or something. I was so not in a good mood when I wrote it, but don't worry, once I get better from whatever psycho meltdown I'm having, I shall start the sequel. Oh yes, there's a sequel, but it might not be what you thought, so I encourage you to give it a chance once I start it.

I love you all and I appreciate your support throughout this weird journey!

HigherMagic x


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